Undercover Auror
by Reverie Wilde
Summary: Harry is an Auror assigned to go undercover to capture a murderer. The catch? Harry has to use himself as bait through a gay dating service. It seems like a good plan until Harry starts to fall for one of the men he's supposed to be investigating. Is he falling for the murderer or the next victim? MxM Drarry
1. Chapter 1

*** Welcome to yet another convoluted scenario designed for the sole purpose of getting Harry and Draco to hook up. lol Six years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry is an Auror assigned to go undercover to capture a murderer. The catch? Harry has to use himself as bait through a gay dating service. It seems like a good plan until Harry starts to fall for one of the men he's supposed to be investigating. Is he falling for the murderer or the next victim? MxM Drarry**

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"Harry, can you come into my office?" Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice sounded through Harry's new portable floo.

Portable floos had recently become the latest rage in the wizarding world. A device, looking very much like a watch, projected a miniature version of the green-flamed network anywhere a wizard went within the confines of the protected wizarding world. Unlike the original network, only voices came through the system. But it sure was a hell of a lot faster than owling.

"On my way Kingsley."

Harry made his way down the hall and upstairs to the Minister of Magic's had taken years for the wizarding world to heal and rebuild after the war. Many of the Death Eaters had been either imprisoned or killed. A few were pardoned, as in the case of Draco Malfoy and his mother. Hogwarts and Diagon Alley had been restored to fully functional and thriving. And no longer did anyone worry about a Dark Lord taking over.

But that didn't mean things were perfect. Wizard turned on wizard, as often happened without a common goal to unite them. There was still a need for Aurors and the Ministry court system. At twenty-four, Harry had been part of that system for the past several years.

"Have a seat, Harry," Kingsley smiled. "I assume you've heard about the string of burglaries and murders."

"Yes sir."

"Head Auror Jasper brought to my attention that a connection between the victims has been discovered."

"I didn't know. I'm not assigned to that case."

"You are now."

"But, I'm in the middle of–

"Auror Wick is going to take over your case. She'll work with Auror Weasley for the time being."

"Why? Why me?" Harry questioned.

"Because you're single."

"There are plenty of single Aurors, Kingsley."

"Not gay ones."

Harry paled. How did Kingsley find out? Did other people know? Harry thought he'd been subtle. He thought Ron and Hermione were the only ones who knew.

"Relax Harry. I'm not judging you. I need you on this case because being gay and single gives you an advantage the other Aurors don't have."

"How did you find out? About me, I mean."

"Quite by accident, really. I saw you at a Muggle club last year. I thought about approaching you, just to say hello. But a man handed you a drink. The two of you were rather cozy. I didn't want to spoil your fun, or cramp your style, so I left."

Blushing, harry asked, "You go to Muggle clubs?"

"I was meeting a snitch. He left quickly after giving me his information and I decided to stay and have a drink. I'm a single man myself. Although, my interests lie with women."

"Oh."

"Like I said Harry, I'm not judging you. Let me explain. The connection between the victims in this case is a dating service. All sorts of new businesses have cropped up since the invention of the portable floo. This dating service is somewhat modeled after Muggle dating sites on their internet."

Harry smiled. "It sounds like Arthur Weasley has been keeping you up the Muggle world."

"Yes," Shacklebolt smiled back. "Anyway, all of the victims are– were members of this service. All had similar profiles. We have reason to believe these are hate crimes. All the victims were gay men."

"Forgive me, Kingsley, I'm not sure how I can help in this case any more than another Auror. Isn't it a matter of investigating the rest of the members?"

"Well, that's the problem. It's an anonymous service. Members pay a one time fee to get access to the private portable floo network and spells to conjure profiles. Members don't use their real names. If they choose to meet other members, the service itself doesn't have anything to do with it. It only provides contact information. The hook-up is up to individual members."

Harry sighed. He could see where this was going. "You want me to join the service and troll for the perp?"

Laughing, Kingsley replied, "Yes, I suppose I do. This would be strictly undercover. You'll use a pseudonym and a profile designed to lure the suspect out. Do Weasley and Granger, er, I mean Weasley, know about your . . ."

"That I'm gay? Yes. They're the only ones I've told."

"Good. I want you to keep them apprised of your movements in the case. The other Aurors won't know of your involvement." Kingsley leaned forward. "It's against Ministry LGBT regulations for me to reveal that you're gay. However, if you choose to out yourself you'll have my full support.

"Thank you sir." Harry sighed. "But I don't think I'm quite ready for that. I'd like to keep my private life as private as possible. There is already still too much interest in my business. I'll be sure to keep Ron and Hermione in the loop." He paused. "What happens when I need back up?"

"You'll have it. It might come out that you were undercover in the case, but no one has to know why, exactly, I chose you. Unless you choose to make your preference public."

Harry frowned. "It's not a preference. I didn't make a conscious choice."

Kingsley put his hands up. "I'm required to use the language of the law. It's a tricky subject for a lot of people. LGBT groups are trying to make sure there aren't prejudices in the work place. I'm required to remind you that coming out is your choice and that I will not consciously, or otherwise, divulge your private life. Same as anyone else here. Let me assure you Harry, this information in no way affects my perception of you or how well you do your job."

"I appreciate all of that sir. But, there are Aurors with much more undercover experience than me."

"True," Kingsley conceded. "I tried to plant Auror Davis into the service. It became obvious that he was not only uncomfortable interacting and trying to seduce other young men, he didn't know the culture. He didn't know the slang that went along with it, and he was called out by several members. I need someone who knows what he's getting himself into and can handle the situation."

Harry chuckled. Auror Davis, while a ladies man and a big flirt for certain, was actually somewhat of homophobe. It tickled Harry to think that he had to pretend to be gay.

"You're right sir. This assignment will be much easier for me than Auror Davis. When do I start?"

"Right away. An account has already been set up for you." Kingsley slid a parchment forward along the desk. "Here's the access information."

Harry read the parchment in front of him and quirked an eyebrow.

"Snake Charmer?"

"Believe me, that's mild compared to most."

"I'm supposed to be a Pureblood. Hints of money, but nothing blatant. Hobbies, likes, dislikes. This is nothing I can't handle." Harry laughed. "I actually do enjoy flying and reading. Don't tell Hermione that."

Kingsley laughed too. "Speaking of Hermione, I suggest you recruit her for helping you learn a bit about Pureblood traditions, if it comes up."

Harry nodded.

"The victims have all been wealthy Purebloods. I'll leave it to you to fill in the rest of Snake Charmer's personality. I'll expect regular reports on your progress."

"Yes sir. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't. You never have."

oOo

"Blimey, it figures. Only Harry would get assigned to dating," Ron grumbled.

"Ron, what are you complaining about? You're married. And besides, I'm not actually dating. It's more like reconnaissance. I'm trying to ferret out a murderer."

Hermione, still fuming at Ron, addressed Harry instead. "Shacklebolt seems to have handled the situation delicately. And he wants me to help you on research?" Her eyes lit up.

"Yeah, about Purebloods specifically."

The three of them perused the information provided by the conjuring spell accessed through Harry's portable floo. Viewing the profiles of the victims. They could see the similarities. There were several wizards in the service who had made contact with all five victims.

"So, the goal is for my profile to attract the perpetrator. He'll contact me, try to get me to take him home, then kill me." Harry laughed. "Or, he can try."

"If you know who has a connection with all the victims, why don't you just contact him?"

"I think it would be a waste of time to contact all the profiles who have interacted with all of the victims. There are too many. I'm going to wait to see who propositions me first. If I have to, I will contact everyone."

Harry's portable floo dinged. "I think I got a hit."

The friends leaned in to read the message appearing in the miniature green flames.

 _Snake Charmer_

 _My name is, ironically, Ophidian. A match made in heaven, if there ever was one. I was beginning to get bored with this service until I read your profile. If you_ _'re interested after reading my profile, please contact me. Consider me charmed._

"Look, it went automatically to his profile," Ron said. "Is he one of the blokes that hooked up with the victims?"

Harry scanned his list of possible suspects.

"Yeah."

"Wow, on the first try," Ron patted him on the shoulder.

"Ron, that doesn't mean he's the one. There are nearly twenty fellows on this list."

"Still, it's a lead," said Ron. "Are you going to contact him?"

"I suppose I should. But he could also be a potential victim. He's got several markers in common with them."

"What are we looking for?" asked Hermione.

"All of the vics have been Purebloods, wealthy, have expensive hobbies, and most of them are openly gay. One victim's family had no idea he was gay and in this service."

"Merlin, is that the time?" Hermione gasped suddenly. "Ron, we're supposed to meet my parents in half an hour for dinner."

"But, we need to help Harry with the case."

"I'm fine Ron," Harry rolled his eyes. "You're not getting out of going to dinner with the Grangers that easily."

"All right," he grumbled. "Well, let us know if anything else comes up."

Harry was actually grateful that Hermione dragged Ron off. He wanted to go through the profiles and make notes, trying to determine a motive for the murders. Their houses were robbed, but little seemed to be taken. Harry considered it almost inconsequential. He figured the murderer was attempting to make it seem as though robbery was the main motive. But Harry wasn't buying it.

Something made Harry think there was more going on. While he was making his way through members who were either potential victims or potential suspects, two more notifications came through his portable. One seemed to have nothing in common with the victims, the other had only contacted three of them. He checked them out anyway, and made notes. His mind, however, kept wandering back to the first message.

The more Harry read, the more interested he became in this man. He seemed well read, not that it was particularly important to Harry. But he wanted someone of relative intelligence. The party boys he'd been hooking up with never had much to talk about besides sex and drugs.

Truth be told, what Harry really wanted was lazy Sunday afternoons cuddled on a sofa in front of a fire with someone special. They could be reading or listening to music, or simply talking about their hobbies.

He sighed. Who but a Muggle would see anything other than the Chosen One, hero of the wizarding world?

He would have liked to meet the man whose profile he was still perusing. Ophidian. The name was unusual. And sensual sounding.

"No," he berated himself. "This is for a case, not my personal life."

Another ding sounded. Followed quickly by another. Two more messages of interest. As he opened and read the messages, he couldn't help compare them to the first. They were not nearly as charming or provocative. But, because this was a case, and not his personal life, Harry viewed the profiles. The first seemed like just another boy toy partier. The second fit in a little better with the victims profiles, and he'd contacted all of them.

He made some notes on a parchment, keeping track of who sent him and the victims contact information. As he was about to sever the connection, Harry changed his mind.

"Oh, fuck it," he muttered to himself, and sent a reply to Ophidian. "I can always say it was part of the investigation."


	2. Chapter 2

***Wow! Thanks for all the follows and faves! And thanks to Grumylar, cassy1994, hotflower901, and sjrodgers23 for reviewing. I hope to post once a week, though not necessarily on a specific day of the week.**

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Over the course of the next few days, Harry went to the Ministry as usual. Taken from the big case he had been working on, he concentrated on catching up on all the paperwork he and Ron had blown off in the past six months. Ron was going to owe him big for that.

"Oi, any more messages?" Ron whispered across the desks they shared in their office.

Harry nodded.

"Anything promising?"

Narrowing his eyes, Harry questioned, "What do you mean, promising?"

"You know, any leads on the case?"

"Oh. A few who sent messages to all five victims."

They each went back to their respective tasks. After a while, Ron spoke up again.

"And what about . . . prospective dates?"

"Ron," Harry frowned. "I'm not in it for the dating service. It's strictly business."

He tried his best to keep a straight face. He didn't want to admit to Ron that he'd sent a message back to Ophidian for anything other than business, but he and Ron told each other everything.

"I contacted that first bloke," Harry confessed, "and he wrote back."

"And?" Ron's eyebrows rose in anticipation.

"And what? I told you, I'm not supposed to be looking for dates."

"Yeah well, it wouldn't hurt," Ron chuckled. "If you don't find someone soon, Hermione is going to start trying to set you up."

Ignoring Ron's comment, Harry continued to talk about the case. "So, I need to respond to these blokes in a way that keeps them interested, and gets information out of them without them figuring out that I'm an Auror."

"Just be yourself."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I can't be myself. I don't want them to know who I really am before we meet. I'm pants at letter writing. To be frank, I'm surprised the first one wrote back at all. My message was so stupid."

"Couldn't have been all that bad if he wrote back," Ron shrugged.

"I suppose. I'd rather talk to him. You know, some give and take in the conversation. Messages are so slow."

"Why don't you give him access to your portable floo? You can talk, but he won't be able to see you."

"That's brilliant, Ron. Why didn't I think of that? I could set it to receive calls for Snake Charmer in a addition to my real name. That should work, right?"

"I think so. It's new technology, and I don't know that much about it. But theoretically, it should work."

Later that evening, Harry experimented with his portable. He contacted Ron and asked him to call for Snake Charmer. When it worked, Harry was anxious to allow the contacts to call him. If he was being honest with himself, he would have admitted he was hoping for one in particular to respond.

Within an hour, Harry's portable roared to life.

"Hello?" a tentative voice called out. "This is Ophidian."

Harry cleared his throat. "Hello."

The connection was not as clear as a full sized floo would have been, but at least they could hear one another.

"Well, this is interesting," Ophidian said. "I don't know anyone else with a portable floo."

"I only got mine a few weeks ago," Harry told him.

"Ah, are you one of those people who has to have the latest thing?"

"Uh, no. I got it for work actually."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I love new things. I was just curious. There's only so much you can learn about a person on paper."

"Yes, I agree, which is why I thought it would be nice to talk."

"There seems to be some interference. I can hear you, but not as well as I would if we were . . . face to face."

Harry could hear the innuendo in the man's voice. It made him shiver. He enjoyed the boldness of this man. He definitely wasn't like the club boys. He was a self assured _man_.

"Maybe in good time," Harry said. "In the meantime, you could tell me more about yourself."

"Hmm, are you trying to get me to tell you what I look like? I thought the beauty of this service was the anonymity."

"A little mystery is good, but don't you want to know what you're getting yourself into? I might look like a mountain troll or have buck teeth."

"Do you?"

Harry laughed. "Ok, I'll put your mind at ease. But I'm not describing myself. We'll stick to the rules of anonymity. I will say that no, I'm not a troll of any sort. I don't have buck teeth, but you'll have to take your chances on the rest of it if you're not willing to reciprocate."

"Let's live dangerously," Ophidian laughed. It was a low, husky sound that Harry very much enjoyed. "You've intrigued me as to what _the rest of it_ comprises. I'm willing to take a chance if you are."

Harry grinned, and was glad the other man couldn't see it.

Ophidian told Harry a bit about himself. He was vague enough that Harry wouldn't be able to guess too much about him, but detailed enough to keep Harry's attention.

Like Harry, he enjoyed flying. He was decent at charms, but potions were where his passion lay. Harry listened as Ophidian told him of some of his adventures gathering ingredients in exotic countries. He was from money, Harry concluded. Potion Masters made a decent income, but it would have taken years to acquire the sort of wealth extensive travel required.

Harry shared some of his adventures, leaving out the parts about Voldemort being involved. The other man asked thoughtful questions and made comments that made Harry feel well attended.

By the time they'd finished their conversation, it was bedtime, though Harry didn't know how he was supposed to sleep. All he could think about was Ophidian's laugh. The sound was naughty enough to send tingles to his groin. He swore the man did it on purpose. As he lay in bed, he let his hand wander under the sheets. All the flirting and innuendo had kept him half hard throughout most of the conversation. He wondered if he had anywhere near the same affect on Ophidian. He doubted it. But the thought of another man lying in his bed, thinking about Harry brought him to full rigidity.

It didn't take long for him to pump out a satisfying orgasm, which left him drowsy. He took a moment to clean the mess off his stomach, then fell asleep nude with a smile on his face.

oOo

A few mornings later, Harry woke in a similar state as the night he spoke to Ophidian. He recalled quite a vivid dream about being sucked off by a snake unlike any Harry had ever seen in real life.

He took care of his condition in the shower, cleaned off and continued to get ready for work. Not that he had much to do there. Having made quite a bit of headway on his and Ron's paperwork over the past few days, Harry had to work slowly to make it seem as though he was busy. Shacklebolt was reluctant to give Harry anything else to work on, however. He wanted him to be free to pursue any leads in the dating service murders.

Harry hadn't even realized he'd closed his eyes until the portable on his wrist chimed, giving him a start.

Another contact. That brought the count up to six so far. As he read the message and glanced at the profile, his eyes widened.

"Ron. It's another one who could be him," he called to his partner.

"Blimey, really?"

"He's hit all five victims."

"What's the message?" Ron asked.

Harry read aloud, "Hello Snake Charmer, I found your profile interesting. I'd like to get to know you better. Take a look at mine and leave me a message. You won't be sorry."

"Well, he's confident," Ron commented.

"The name he's using is Silver Spoon. Makes him sound rich. Do you think that's what he's doing? Luring men who actually have money to him by pretending he has it too."

Ron shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

Harry replied that he liked what he saw in the man's profile, although in reality, Harry didn't believe a word of it.

"I guess I just wait now," Harry sighed. "At least it's something."

A few hours later, Harry received another message from Silver Spoon. It was longer than the first, and he obliged Harry by telling a bit about himself. He was tall, blond and had a weakness for shiny things, especially gold and boys.

Harry shook his head. So much for anonymity. When he told Ron, they shared a giggle.

"Sounds like Malfoy. Blond, rich and completely full of himself."

"You don't think Malfoy would lower himself to a dating service do you? He probably thinks he's the most eligible bachelor since Kirley Duke got married," Harry snickered. "Still, maybe he's hard up since his father was convicted. I haven't heard much about the Malfoys since the war."

"So, what are you going to do? Are you going to meet with this guy?"

Harry shook his head. "He hasn't suggested it yet. I don't want to scare him off. I'll lay it on thick, making it seem as though I'm wealthy. If this our man, he'll take the bait."

Harry added the new information to his parchment. Not much written yet. Undercover work was so slow going. To be fair, it had been less than a week since Shacklebolt had given him the assignment. But Harry was a man of action. He'd rather be out in the field chasing down what he could see, than sitting around waiting for something to happen.

Hermione wandered down from the Ministry library just before lunch with a stack of books on Pureblood traditions for Harry to read. He groaned loudly. He would definitely rather be out in the field than reading something he had absolutely no interest in.

"Harry, you have to have at least a working knowledge if you're going to claim to be a Pureblood."

"Ron's a pureblood and he doesn't know all this crap."

The man in question sat with his lips pursed.

"What," Harry frowned. "You _do_ know all this crap?"

"Sort of. I mean, not the way the high society Purebloods do, but, yeah. You just need the basics." Ron picked through the books, leafing through a couple of them and handed two to Harry. "These should do."

"Hmph. Do you have any idea how long it took me to find those books, Ron?" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm sure Harry appreciates it, love." He kissed her forehead. "But he appreciates having to read only _two_ even more. Are you coming to lunch with us Harry?"

"Um, I'd better start looking through these. I'll catch up later."

Harry sat, pretending to be interested in learning all about _Pureblood Etiquette and You_. As soon as they left the office, though, he rolled up his sleeve to make a portable call.

"Hello? I'm afraid I can't see you."

"It-It's me, Snake Charmer," Harry said nervously. "Remember, we can't see each other on my portable."

"Oh, yes. Pity. Did you enjoy our talk the other evening?"

Harry blushed, thinking, yes. he. did. He cleared his throat. "Very much," he replied. "What about you?"

"Me?" Ophidian took in a deep breath and released it slowly. "The same."

Harry had the feeling he was being teased, as if Ophidian new exactly what Harry had done that night after their conversation ended. His cock twitched.

"So, what did I do to earn the pleasure of your company once more?" Ophidian asked.

"We never did get around to talking about Quidditch. I noticed your profile says you're an avid fan. What's your team?"

"I'm a Puddlemere United man myself. I've hardly missed a match. Their last match against the Harpies was brilliant."

"I have a friend on the Harpies." Too late, Harry cursed himself for giving that away. "Officially, that's my favorite team."

"Officially?"

"Well, I can't very well go around telling everyone the Ballycastle Bats are my true favorite because Finbar Quigley is so fuckin' hot."

"Why not? I would," Ophidian chuckled.

"Maybe you're just a bit more brave than me, then," Harry said quietly. Damn, how was this man getting Harry to say things he didn't want to?

There was a pause on the other end. "Are you not out?"

"Officially?" Harry tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a cough. "No, not officially. I don't know why I just told you that."

"You, sir, sound like a challenge."

Harry was afraid the man on the other end would decide he was more trouble than he was worth.

"And I love a good challenge," Ophidian finished. "Do you?"

"I've had my share," Harry chuckled.

"Oh, I doubt you seen as many as I have. I've overcome a lot in my life." Ophidian reflected. "I'm sure I can handle coaxing someone out of the closet."

For a brief moment, Harry heard vulnerability in Ophidian's voice. It was gone nearly the instant he recognized it. He wanted to hear more. There was a story there, and Harry was betting it was a fascinating one.

"I can be fairly stubborn," Harry said, continuing the banter.

"Then I shall have to do my best to lure you out."

Harry froze. Ophidian's words sounded almost sinister. The Auror in Harry immediately picked up on it. But Ophidian may not have meant it that way. What the hell was Harry doing flirting with a potential suspect anyway? He tried to compose himself and continue playing the game.

"The gauntlet has been thrown down."

Silence on the other end.

"Ophidian?"

"Something's changed. Have I said something wrong?"

Merlin, this man was perceptive.

"No. I'm afraid I get a little defensive about disclosing my homosexuality. My friends have been urging me on for a few years now. You have quite a task ahead of you. If you're still eager."

"You are by far the most entertaining man I've met in a long time. I think you _want_ to come out. I think you want to be naughty and wild. But something is holding you back. I want to find out what that is and liberate you from yourself."

Harry took in a breath that sounded far too shaky.

"I must be going," Ophidian said, as if he hadn't just stripped Harry down to his core. "I have an appointment. I look forward to our next conversation."

"Yes," Harry swallowed.

The green flames disappeared and Harry was left wondering what the hell just happened. Ophidian went from a suspect in a murder case, to a flirtatious diversion, to a sage who could seemingly see into Harry's soul in one short tête-à-tête.

If he was the man the Aurors were looking for, he wouldn't be tripped up easily. Merlin, Harry hoped he wasn't that man.


	3. Chapter 3

I started writing this one before Dinner for Two, and I'm sort of surprised the other one is getting more attention. You never can tell with these things.

PerdidoKitsune- I hope this one has you squealing too :)

cassy1994- Harry is all too aware that these men are suspects. He's going to have his hands full trying to figure it all out .

hotflower901- Harry is Wicked indeed ;)

Thanks to sjrodgers and KatieMarrie for also reading and reviewing!

Another week went by, and Harry had made contact with four possible suspects. He'd spoken with three of them. The fourth seemed to have lost interest, but Harry kept monitoring his activity.

Silver Spoon was quite forward, and talked mainly about himself. He told grand tales of traveling, and bragged about his hand-tailored clothing. He talked about fine restaurants to which he wanted to take Harry. Harry, in return, gave him the same fabricated story of his life he told the other fellows. Snake Charmer was from a wealthy Pureblood family, had the best box seats for Quidditch matches, played backgammon, and collected vintage broomsticks. Harry had developed an interest in the broomsticks in his personal life, however, he didn't waste money collecting them. Ron had taught him how to play backgammon recently, and it seemed like somewhat of an intellectual game, so he added it to Charmer's profile. The Quidditch part was easy, as Harry was an avid fan.

The third man Harry spoke to, Sax Man, turned out to be a part time musician. Though he was pleasant enough, Harry didn't get the impression he was crafty enough to pull off the murders. Still, he had to pursue the lead. Shacklebolt didn't want Harry to overlook any detail that might help the case.

It was nearly quitting time and Harry felt like he was beginning to see double. He rubbed his eyes.

"You going to get out of here on time?" he asked Ron.

Ron stretched his arms over his head while grunting loudly. "Yeah, I'm almost finished cataloging the stolen items from the break-in at the Quidditch supply shop. I can do the rest tomorrow."

Harry chuckled. "Tomorrow's Saturday."

"Crikey, you're right. I've been working too hard. Wanna go to the Leaky Cauldron after work?"

"I could use a drink."

"Sorry I'm the only date you can get, even after joining a dating service," Ron laughed.

"Fuck you," Harry glared, but there wasn't any bite behind the words. "What about Hermione?"

"Nah, let's just make it us boys this time."

"Everything okay?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine." Ron paused and gave Harry a look that said maybe he needed to talk.

"All right."

Before the pair could leave the office, Harry's portable went off again.

"It's Silver Spoon. Um, I can just floo call later."

"No, go ahead and answer it. It might be funny."

Harry nodded. "Hello?"

"Hello Snake Charmer. Is this a bad time?"

"No, not at all. How are you?"

"I'm fine. How are you?"

"Fine." Harry paused and looked at Ron who was pretending to fall asleep. "Was there something I could do for you?"

"Yes, actually. I was, um, hoping you would be interested in meeting me for drinks or perhaps dinner."

"Oh."

Harry smiled and gave a thumbs up to Ron.

"All right. When would you like to go?"

"How about tonight?"

Glancing at Ron, he could tell that Ron was unhappy about having his own plans changed, even if it was for a case. Not that Ron would have said anything.

"I'm sorry. I'm busy tonight. What about tomorrow?"

Silver Spoon sighed. "I have an obligation tomorrow that I can't break. It's a very important party. Anybody who's _anybody_ will be there."

"Oh."

"Oh, I didn't mean . . . you must think I'm terribly snobby," the man said. "It's just that growing up in a prominent Pureblood family puts certain pressures on a person. Well, being Pureblood yourself, you understand."

"Oh, sure," Harry agreed, rolling his eyes.

Ron mouthed the word _Malfoy_.

Harry nodded.

"So," Silver Spoon continued, "are you free next Saturday?"

"I believe so," Harry said. "But I'd better check my calendar. You know, it's coming up on engagement party season. I have so many cousins, there's alway someone getting married."

Ron chuckled in the background at Harry going along with Silver Spoon. He covered his mouth so the man wouldn't hear.

"You come from a large family? Mine is rather small, I'm afraid. But my parents are well connected, so we attend all sorts of social functions."

"You attend them with your parents?" asked Harry. Ron nudged him. He had forgotten that unmarried Pureblood children attended all social functions with their parents.

"Don't you?"

"Sure, I just, um, well, my parents aren't in the best of health, so they're not always able to take part."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is that why you've decided to join this service? Do you feel pressured to get married and take over as head of the family?"

"Yes. What about you?"

Silver Spoon snickered. "My father can't– I mean, my situation is similar. I usually escort my mother to social functions. I'm already acting as the head of the family. I would like to find a man for more . . . personal reasons."

Ron stuck his finger down his throat, provoking Harry to swat him on the shoulder.

"Perhaps I can help you out there," Harry said, hoping it was coming across as flirtatious.

"Exactly what I was thinking. Next Saturday, then?"

"Where should we meet?"

"The Peacock? It's a fabulous restaurant. The lobster stuffed sole is to die for."

Harry winced at Silver Spoon's choice of words.

"It's quite expensive, isn't it?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No, of course not. I was simply worried about getting a reservation. Shall we say six o'clock?"

Silver Spoon chuckled. "I won't have a problem getting a reservation. Believe me. Six o'clock it is. Until then."

"See you then."

As soon as the green flames died out, Ron burst out laughing.

"Harry, you're a natural. I almost believed you were some poncy Pureblood. But Merlin, if that bloke doesn't sound like Malfoy."

"Yeah. The way he talked about his parents especially. He has to escort his mother? He didn't say, but it's not a stretch to think that his father's not around because he's in Azkaban."

"A snobby Pureblood who wants to show off his money at a fancy restaurant. I'd bet a fire whiskey that it's Malfoy."

"I don't know, Ron. It doesn't sound like how I remember his voice. Then again, _your_ voice didn't sound the same through the portable floo either. I guess I'll find out next Saturday. You're on."

Harry and Ron shook on it, then straightened their desk and left the office before anything else could keep them from leaving.

Sitting at the booth in the Leaky Cauldron, the pair drank fire whiskey and talk about the mundane. For a while.

"All right, Ron. We've been here twenty minutes and you haven't told me what you want to talk about."

"What makes you think I wanted to talk about anything?" Ron downed the last of his drink and held up two fingers for the server to bring more.

"I know you. Something's bothering you. You know I won't tell anyone."

"I know. But it's sort of . . . embarrassing."

"I have to pretend to be a Pureblood spoiled brat interested in strangers. What's more embarrassing than that?"

Ron sighed. "Well, this is pretty emb– " he stopped talking as the waitress brought two more shots to the table. She gave Ron a wink before walking away. He grumbled.

"I can't even enjoy that anymore."

"Enjoy what?" Harry asked.

"The harmless flirting with cute women. The carefree days. Sex."

"Sex? That's what you're talking about? Are you complaining about sex?"

"You know, everyone said it would change. But I thought, no, that won't happen to me and Moine."

"Oh," Harry nodded sympathetically. "She's losing interest?"

Ron shook his head. "It's all she thinks about."

Harry blinked. "And this is a bad thing?" He laughed.

"It's not funny, Harry. She's taking all the fun out of it. She's got us on a schedule, whether we're in the mood or not. I never thought I'd get tired of fucking."

Frowning, Harry tried to phrase his question delicately. "So, Hermione is the one who wants to have sex all the time. And you . . . don't?"

"Look, I'm not suppose to say anything, but we're trying to get Hermione up the duff."

"That's great. Congratulations."

"Well, don't congratulate me yet. I haven't quite gotten the job done."

"Ah, the reason for the schedule. How long have you been trying?"

"A few months. Maybe four. But every time it doesn't happen, she gets moody and takes it out on me."

"Have you gone to St. Mungo's for help?"

"They want us to go through at least six month of trying first. The healer we spoke to said it's not unusual for it to take that long."

"And Hermione doesn't want to wait?"

"I've never seen her like this. Usually she's the logical one, and I'm going off. It's like we've switched places."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Harry asked, knowing there most likely wasn't. He knew Ron just needed to vent.

"No, mate. Thanks, though." Ron drank his shot in one go. "In a way, I envy you. You won't have to go through with this."

"You envy _me_?" Harry's brow furrowed. "You get to create a child together. Half Hermione, half you. Even if you end up needing a bit of help from a healer, you can still have that. The best I can hope for is a child that's either part mine or part my partner's. But not both. I envy _you_. No matter what you have to go through to get it."

"I guess I never thought of it that way," Ron shrugged. "To be honest, I didn't think gay men were much interested in children."

"Just because I want my significant other to be male doesn't mean I don't want all the same things everyone else does." Harry sounded a little defensive, even to himself.

"Sorry, mate. I didn't mean to . . . I think maybe I'm doing that thing we learned about in psychological training for Auror. You know what I mean, when you assume someone else feels the same way about something. Begins with a p, I think."

"Projecting?"

Ron snapped his fingers. "That's the one."

"Ron, are you saying you don't want children, yet you and Hermione are trying to have one? Have you talked to her about this?"

"I don't know." Ron cradled his head in his hands. "I don't know what I want. I want Mione to be happy. And people are supposed to want kids, right? I mean, look at my parents. They had seven."

"You should be talking to Hermione about this. If you're not sure, you shouldn't jump into it. It's a huge responsibility."

"I know. But Mum has already started knitting baby clothes. Two sets. One in pink and one in blue."

Harry sighed. "You can't let anyone pressure you."

Ron downed his second fire whiskey. He held up a finger for more.

"Are you certain that's what's bothering you?" Harry asked. "It's just the pressure to start a family?"

Looking away, Ron merely shrugged.

After the server brought the next round and left, Harry reached across the table. Squeezing Ron's wrist he said, "You can talk to me about anything. Same as I can tell you anything. In fact, there's something I need to talk about as well."

Ron nodded, eager to hear about Harry's problem, if for no other reason than to take his mind off his own.

"Well," Harry cleared his throat, "you know I've been keeping you up to date on this case I'm working on."

"Yeah. Is there a break?"

"No," chuckled Harry. "Not in the case, but perhaps my love life."

Ron sat up and leaned forward. "What?"

"Remember that first message I received?"

"Yeah, his name was something weird, but it meant snake, right?"

"That's him. Ophidian." Harry felt himself blush just saying the name. But he pushed on. "I've spoken to him a few times over the portable. And . . ." Harry chuckled nervously. "I think maybe I'm getting too personally involved."

Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Like, how personally? Have you met him?"

"No, no, nothing like that. We've only talked. But, we talk for what seems like hours. He's so charming and well spoken. He's got a bit of a naughty sense of humor and for some reason, he completely flusters me."

"Harry, I don't want to be the one to burst your bubble, but he sounds like just the sort who would be able to get a bloke to take him home . . ." Ron knew he didn't need to finish the rest of his thought. Harry would pick up on it.

"I know. He fits the profile perfectly. Maybe I don't _want_ it to be true, but my gut says he's not the murderer."

"Your gut? Or another part of you?" Ron grinned.

Harry laughed. "That too, I suppose. Ron, I know I'm not behaving in a strictly professional manner with this man." He sighed. "I can't help myself. Under different circumstances, I might find myself falling for him."

"There's a possibility he's not your perp, right? So, maybe when all of this is over, you can–

"No. How could he ever trust me, knowing I was investigating him?"

Ron gave him a sympathetic smile. "You never know. He might." He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "All right."

"All right, what?"

"All right, I'll tell you what's bothering me."

Harry waited patiently, taking another sip from his fire whiskey.

"The truth is, even though I'm not in the same rush as Hermione, I do want kids. Maybe not _seven_ little sprogs running about. One or two would be okay." He glanced up at Harry. "We've been trying for four months, and nothing. What if . . . what if my todger's shootin' blanks? What if I'm the end of my line? What if Hermione decides she can do better?"

"You think Hermione would leave you simply because you can't get her up the duff?"

Ron shrugged.

"She loves you. And you haven't been trying all that long. And . . . there are always options."

"Yeah, but Fleur is always saying how manly and potent Bill is. They just have to _think_ about it and, boom, baby's on the way."

"She's part veela, isn't she? Maybe they're just more . . . fertile."

Laughing, Ron nodded.

"You know Ron, it might not be _you_ that's having trouble."

His friend looked at him blankly.

"It could be Hermione."

"Don't even say that, mate. She would be devastated. She's already started lists for names, and how to decorate a nursery. I'll have to hope it's me, and there's something to be done about it."

Harry nodded in agreement. "In the meantime, you should enjoy the _trying_ part, at least."

"You're right," Ron blinked. "I've been wasting it, worried about whether or not it was going to work that time. And thinking about the next time, and what I should do differently. Blimey, what a berk I've been."

He finished the last of his fire whiskey and stood.

"I've got to go home and have sex with my wife."

"You might want to have a coffee before you go, Ron. I don't think she'd appreciate you coming to her pissed."

Ron sat back down. "You're right. Harry, what the fuck would I do without you?"

Waving for the server, Harry smiled. "That's what friends are for."

It was the least he could do for Ron. And Hermione too. He had a feeling he'd need to lean on them in the near future.

oOo

After sending a mostly sober Ron off to Hermione's bed, Harry looked at his pocket watch. It was late, but perhaps not too late for an impromptu nightcap with Silver Spoon. Not that he was actually looking forward to meeting him. Harry had to admit that he was curious if the man really was Malfoy, as he and Ron joked. He took a chance and called on his portable as he walked down the street on his way home.

Silver Spoon didn't answer, and Harry had to admit he was relieved. At least he could say he tried.

What he was really itching to do was call Ophidian. Not wanting to appear foolish in public, Harry waited until he got home.

Within half an hour, Harry found himself lounging on his sofa with a glass of wine in hand, laughing at story Ophidian told about some of his old school chums.

"You know, I knew people like that in school as well." He was thinking of Seamus in particular.

Then it occurred to Harry that he and Ophidian must have attended Hogwarts during some of the same years. He wondered if the inept wizard Ophidian spoke of was indeed Seamus. He tried to remember if any of the other students were gay. If so, they played it close to the vest, like Harry. Though, Harry did have his suspicions.

"Am I boring you, Charmer?"

"What?" Harry snapped out of his reverie. "Shite, I'm sorry. I'm not bored at all. I was thinking that we must have both gone to Hogwarts at some point."

"Are you asking me personal information? I thought we were keeping the mystery. Although, since most of the men on this service are British, most of us probably went to Hogwarts."

"Hm. So you're saying you did go to Hogwarts?"

Ophidian laughed. "You always seem to be trying to break your own rules, Charmer. You've all but admitted you went there."

"But you won't say when." Harry pouted.

"Your rules."

"But don't you want to make sure we're not twenty years apart in age or something?" Not that Harry thought that would actually make a difference to him. Whether the man was twenty-four or forty-four, Harry was smitten. In his mind, he pictured a fit, handsome man. But yes, it had occurred to him that Ophidian could be older, balding, with a less than fabulous physique. He didn't care.

"All right. I'm somewhere between eighteen and thirty. Even if you're at one end and I'm at the other, that's not too much of an age gap."

Harry smiled. "Agreed. I'm somewhere in there myself." He wanted so badly to break his own rules and hear all bout this man. He wanted to know what he looked like, where he lived, how his home was decorated, what he did for a living. All the things that would tell him if this was someone he could spend a life with. He couldn't stop himself. He just blurted it out.

"I want to meet you. Tomorrow. Please say yes."

Ophidian laughed. "Aren't you enjoying the thrill of the unknown?"

"I have a feeling it might be a bigger thrill to meet you in person."

"That's a lot to live up to."

"Not only for you," Harry pointed out. "Unless, you've been humoring me all this time, and you're not truly interested."

"Oh, I'm interested. I can't put my finger on what makes you different from the other men I've met. Maybe it's that you're sincere, vulnerable, and yet, at the same time, forward. I enjoy that one minute I can make you giggle like a school girl, and the next, you're practically propositioning me. I have a feeling that we might fight for dominance in a relationship."

Harry laughed. "Are you asking if I'm a top?"

"See, there you go again. You say it like it is. But I get the feeling you're still blushing."

Damn, Harry cursed himself. But Ophidian said he liked that about Harry. He went for broke, hoping to ruffle up the other man for a change.

"I'm a bottom. But I'm a bossy one."

Ophidian laughed for Harry, and it made his cock twitch. The wine had loosened Harry up enough to boldly rub a hand over the bulge growing in his trousers, even as he spoke to the object of his desire.

"And exactly how would you boss me around, Charmer?"

Harry groaned. "Well, first I would make you undress me. Slowly. Then I'd watch as you undressed yourself."

Ophidian swallowed audibly. "You'd make me do all the work?" He tried to joke. But Harry could hear the slight break in his voice and took advantage.

"I'd be worth it. You'd want to touch every part of me. And I'd let you. Until you couldn't take it anymore. You'd be so hard for me. But I wouldn't let you have me yet."

"You," Ophidian cleared his throat, "you wouldn't?"

"Not until you prepared me. You see, I've been saving myself for you. I didn't realize it until now. But it's been a long time since I had another man's fingers in my arse."

Harry could hear Ophidian gasp through the floo. He was so hard, and rubbing himself through his trousers was unsatisfying. Unzipping, he freed his cock and took hold.

"Then what?" Ophidian breathed.

Harry spoke slowly, building up his scenario. "You'd lube me up. First with one finger. Then another. And another. You'd fuck me with your fingers while you kissed me in all the places I like best."

"What–what are those? Where?" Ophidian's breath sounded ragged on the other end.

"Mm," Harry moaned, giving away a little more than he meant to. "I'll have to show you in person. Or you can use your imagination."

"Yes," the man whispered.

"Almost ready to fuck," Harry continued.

"Almost?"

"I'd need to lube your cock first. I'd pour a good amount in my hand and rub it all over your cock to make sure it's good and _hard_."

"It is."

"Fuck," Harry swore. He was so close to cumming. He'd never done anything like this before. It was too late to stop.

"How would you want it?" Ophidian sounded nearly as desperate as Harry felt.

"Oh, yeah, fuck me from behind. Give it to me hard."

"I'd fuck you so hard, you'll– oh fuck," Ophidian cried out.

Harry's cock spewed hard and long onto his jumper as he let out a loud moan.

For long minutes, the only sounds were heavy breathing. Coming to his senses, Harry groaned at his behavior. He quite possible could have just had floo sex with a murderer.

"My sentiments exactly," Ophidian chuckled. "You certainly surprised me. That's not easy to do."

"I surprise myself. I've never done anything like that before. I . . . I don't know what I was thinking."

"I'm fairly certain you were thinking about me fucking you."

Harry laughed. "Yes. But–

"That was better than some of the sex I've had in person," Ophidian said. "Now I must meet you. Unfortunately, I'm not available tomorrow."

"Oh," Harry couldn't hide his disappointment.

"How about next Friday?"

"Yes," Harry said immediately.

"Then it's a date. For now, goodnight."

"Goodnight." Harry wanted to say more. He wasn't sure what. He only knew he didn't want the call to end.

But it did. Harry cast a clean up spell and went up to bed. The following week was sure to move at a snail's pace


	4. Chapter 4

Yay! Snow day! Even if it is on the weekend.

Thanks to hotflower901, Grumbler, 19missybaker63, the panda of death, Katiemarrie, IchigoGalaxy, cassy1994, alienlover13 and littlesprout for reading and reviewing.

oOo

Harry knew he was fucked. Not literally, unfortunately. If Kingsley found out precisely how Harry was conducting his investigation, he'd be suspended for sure.

"Let's see what you've got," Kingsley said to Harry as he unwrapped a sandwich.

Before Harry took out his own lunch, he opened up the parchment on which he had been keeping track of his suspects and potential victims. There were two columns, each listing names and reasons for being either a suspect or a victim. Some of the names appeared in both. He had also kept track of the portable floo calls and anything the men said that might be important to the case.

Shackle bolt raised an eyebrow. "You're keeping an eye for potential victims?"

"If I can keep any of them from being murdered, I've got to at least try."

"True. But the best way is to bring the killer in quickly."

As Kingsley perused the list, Harry took out his chicken sandwich and began eating. He was confident in his organizational skills and figured as he met up with the men on the list, he could rule them out as suspects. Until someone tried to get him to take them home.

"Using the new portable floo, I see," Kingsley grinned. "The Ministry accountants didn't see a need to provide all the Aurors with them. I'm glad to see you prove them wrong."

"Yes. I've come, er, _it's_ come in handy." Harry froze as he realized what he'd said. But there was no way Shacklebolt would take it for anything but a slip of the tongue. "I have meetings set up with two men at the end of this week."

"You'll use a Glamour of course. We wouldn't want our murderer scared off by an Auror."

"Of course."

"Well, it seems like you're doing a fine job Harry. You've gotten much further than Auror Davis did during his two week attempt."

They continued to eat and talk about some of the other cases the Aurors were pursuing. Harry was most interested in the one he was forced to abandon.

After Kingsley left, and before Ron returned from his lunch with Hermione, Harry decided to make a quick portable floo call.

"Hello?" the smooth voice on the other end answered.

"Hello, this is . . . Snake Charmer." Harry silently cursed himself for nearly giving his real name.

"This is a pleasant surprise. How are you?"

"Good, good. And you?"

"Spectacular. I'm curious, though, how you manage to have time in the middle of the day to make personal floo calls. Your job must be very flexible."

"I tend to keep odd hours. I'm actually at work right now, but on my lunch. How is it you're always free to take my floo calls in the middle of the day?"

Harry hoped he might get a bit of personal information out of Ophidian. "I have a a fireplace in the workshop."

"Workshop? Is that for business or pleasure?"

"Both," Ophidian laughed. "Depending on what you're into."

Harry's mind automatically went to the gutter.

"Now I'm curious as to what sort of business you might have that could also be considered pleasure."

"Perhaps you'll find out one day. But I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. It's not as though I run a sex toy shop."

Harry grunted at that thought. He felt like a boy going through puberty with as much as his cock reacted to the slightest suggestion. He needed to focus.

"Well, mainly I called because we hadn't discussed the particulars of our . . ."

"Date?" Ophidian questioned. "It is a date, is it not?"

"Yes," Harry chuckled. "I'm afraid I haven't been on many of those lately."

"Why not? Are you certain you're not a mountain troll after all?" Ophidian laughed.

"Well, I haven't been told so, so I'm assuming not. Where would you like to meet Friday night? How about The Three Broomsticks?"

Harry heard a gasp on the other end.

"Is that not a suitable place for a date?" he asked.

"No, it isn't that. I completely forgot that I already made a date for Friday night."

"Oh." Harry was disappointed. He didn't want to wait for his date with Ophidian. He'd hardly be able to wait the two days as it was.

"I'll have to cancel."

"I understand. Perhaps the following weekend. I don't think I have any plans."

"I'm not cancelling with you, Charmer. I'm cancelling with the other bloke."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "I wouldn't want to put you out."

"No question. I wasn't all that interested anyway."

"Then why would you make plans with him?" the Auror in Harry asked.

"Just killing time until someone better came along."

Ophidian's choice of words caught Harry's attention. Could Ophidian be the murderer? Was he planning to kill someone, then changed his mind when Harry came along?

"In case you were wondering, _you're_ the someone better who came along." Ophidian prodded.

"You don't know that for certain," Harry said. "That other bloke might have been perfect."

"But _he_ didn't drive me to masturbate over a floo call. I'm not ashamed to admit that was one of the more lascivious experiences I've had."

"But not the most?"

Ophidian laughed that husky laugh Harry came to relish. "No, not the most. I'll tell you all about that on Friday. If you're still game?"

"Absolutely. What time shall we say?"

"I like to take my Friday supper at seven. Is that agreeable?"

Harry nodded before realizing Ophidian couldn't see him. "Yes, that's fine. See you at The Three Broomsticks at seven on Friday, then."

"I look forward to it. Oh, but how will I know who you are? And how will you know me?"

"I forgot about that," Harry frowned. "I'll wear a red scarf around my neck."

"All right. And I'll wear . . ." There was a pause on the other end while he pondered. "On second thought, I'll bring you a rose from my mother's garden."

"A rose blooming at this time of year?"

"She has a hothouse. She loves to have fresh flowers year round. Real flowers. The conjured kind simply won't do."

"Okay. I'll look for a dashing man between eighteen and thirty carrying a rose," Harry snickered a bit. Lots of men might be wearing scarves in the chilly weather, but no one would be carrying a rose. "Goodbye."

"Adieu."

The floo call ended. Harry let out a breath. Did Ophidian just speak French? He wondered if he only knew a word or two or if he was fluent. There was something sexy about a man that could whisper words of love in French. Harry nearly went weak-kneed thinking about it. He didn't have time, though, as Ron and Hermione walked in the door from their lunch break.

"How are the pureblood lessons going?" she asked.

"I've learned a few things. Enough to get me by. Only one bloke really seems to be hung up on the whole pureblood thing."

Ron giggled. "You talking about Malfoy?"

Hermione's eyes went wide. "Malfoy? _Draco_ Malfoy? Harry, is he one of the men you're investigating?"

"No, Hermione. Well, technically I don't know. There's one man who seems snobby and full of himself, so we were joking that it was Malfoy. I doubt it's actually him. I'm supposed to meet him at a restaurant called The Peacock on Saturday. I suppose I'll find out then."

"Harry, it makes me nervous that you're going to be meeting up with a murderer," she frowned.

"I'll have back up," he explained. "I've been keeping Ron up to date on what's going on. And I _am_ an Auror. I've been trained for this."

"I know. But I still worry. I'm only glad Ron has been working on the break-ins on Diagon Alley instead of chasing after murderers. I'd be beside myself."

Ron rolled his eyes. But Harry thought it was sweet the way she worried about him. He longed for someone to care for him the same way.

"By the way, Ron, I've set up another da– meeting on Friday."

"With which one?"

"Um, the one who calls himself Ophidian."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "He fancies himself a snake, does he?"

"Everybody uses silly nicknames on the service."

"Don't get your hopes up," she smirked. "You know what they say about overcompensating."

Harry blushed. In this case, he was hoping Ophidian was right on the mark.

"I'm only teasing," she said. "But seriously, we need to find you a man."

"I'm fine, really."

After Hermione went back up to her own office, Ron and Harry worked in relative silence for a while, until Harry thought he would burst if he didn't tell Ron what happened.

"Are, um, things any better between you and Hermione?"

"What? Oh, yeah. You were right. I need to stop worrying and bask in the good fortune I have at the moment. As soon as she's up the duff, it'll be gone."

"That's the spirit. Enjoy it while it lasts. Yep, that's the way to live life. You have to go for it."

Ron put down his quill and pursed his lips. "What are you going on about?"

"Nothing. Just agreeing with you." Harry was having second thoughts about telling Ron exactly how depraved and sex-starved he was.

"Bullshit. Something's going on. Out with it."

Harry glanced around. It was only the pair of them in the office. Nobody else was there to hear. Still, Harry hesitated.

"Shite. Ron, I've done something terrible and completely unprofessional."

"What? Did you tamper with evidence or something?"

"No. Worse."

"You didn't use an Unforgivable, did you?"

"Okay, it wasn't _that_ bad. Somewhere in between," Harry told him.

"Tell me. You've got to get it off your chest."

"You'll think I'm awful."

"No, I won't." Ron waited, looking quite serious.

Harry took a breath. "It's . . . it's about Ophidian."

The corner of Ron's mouth rose just slightly. "Yeah?"

"I spoke to him a few nights ago. And . . ."

"And . . . what? Wait, you said you have a date with him on Friday."

"Yes. I asked him. He didn't ask me."

"Is that all? I wouldn't call that unprofessional. You needed to move the investigation along."

"No, Ron. That's not all. We . . . fuck, I can't even say it."

"Sure you can. You've _got_ to tell me now."

Running his hands through his hair, Harry stood and began pacing.

"At first, we just talked, about anything. I was drinking a bit of wine and he was telling me funny stories. It was great. I forgot all about the fucking case. It was like I was talking to a boyfriend, not a murder suspect."

Ron winced a bit. "Well, it's not ideal. But it's understandable that you got caught up in playing the part."

"Playing a part is one thing." Harry groaned, flopping back into his chair. "We had . . . floo sex."

"Come again?" Ron deadpanned.

"I don't know what else to call it. We talked dirty and wanked on a portable floo call. I'm so ashamed." Harry buried his face in his hands.

He stayed like that for a minute or two. When he finally looked up, Ron was slack-jawed and staring.

"That's fucking brilliant," the redhead said softly.

"What?"

"I mean, maybe you shouldn't have done it with a suspect, but that sounds . . . hot. I wish I had thought of that when Hermione and I were dating."

"There were no portable floos back then."

"Right. But still. He got you all worked up just talking dirty over the floo?"

Harry blushed. "Actually, I was the one who did most of the talking."

Ron was trying not to laugh. He really was.

"It's not funny, Ron. If Kingsley found out–

"He's not going to find out. I'm not going to tell. And if this guy's your killer, who's going to believe him if he tells. Besides, he doesn't even know you're you."

"Which leads me to my second problem," Harry sighed. "I don't see a way where this works out for us. Either he's a killer and gets sent to Azkaban, or he hates me for lying all this time."

"Maybe some day you can explain it all. He might understand."

"Would you?" questioned Harry. "If Hermione had been lying to you about who she really was, what would you do?"

Ron thought for a moment. "If she could get me off talking dirty to me over the floo, I'd definitely give her a second chance."

Harry picked up a piece of parchment, crumpled it up and threw it at him. "Not every man only thinks with his dick. Oh, wait, what am I saying? Of course we do. That's the only reason I'm considering this relationship."

"Yeah, gay or straight, we're a pathetic lot," snickered Ron.

The portable floo on Harry's wrist roared to life, ending the fun.

"Hello?"

"Is this Snake Charmer?" An unfamiliar voice asked.

"Yes. Who's this?"

"We've been sending messages back and forth. I'm Alley Cat."

"Oh, yes," Harry nodded. "How are you?"

"Good. I was hoping we could finally get together in person. I'm quite interested in getting to know you."

"All right. That would be nice. When and where would you like to meet? I'm free this Sunday."

"Sunday? That's an odd day to go out," Alley Cat said.

"Then perhaps the following Saturday?"

"No, I work Saturday nights. It has to be Friday. Be at the Leaky Cauldron Friday a week at half six."

"Sounds good," Harry tried to sound chipper, but something seemed off. "I'll be there."

"I look forward to it."

The floo call suddenly ended.

"Well, he sounds pleasant," Ron remarked sarcastically.

"Yeah. He seemed pretty adamant that we had to meet on a Friday." Harry rustled through the parchments on his desk until he found the one he was looking for. "Here it is. Four out of the five murders occurred on a Friday."

"Blimey, Harry, you may have just made contact with your suspect."

"There's still no evidence."

"Yeah, but it's the start of a pattern."

"Except for this Saturday murder."

Ron got up to look over Harry's shoulder as they read through the particulars of the case.

"Look," Ron pointed. "The victim's time of death was on Saturday, but it was only one o'clock in the morning. They could have met up on Friday night, and it took him longer to kill that victim."

"True. I think you're on to something." Harry paused. "Or it could be a coincidence. I have a date with Ophidian on a Friday as well. It could still be him."

oOo

When Harry finally got home from work on Friday afternoon, he grabbed a quick snack. He'd had butterflies in his belly all day long, looking forward to his date.

It took him half an hour just to choose the right clothes. He ultimately settled on a pair of snug fitting jeans and a heather grey jumper. He remembered to grab his red scarf and put it with his jacket so he wouldn't forget to wear it.

Taking his time in the shower, he was sure to clean every part of himself thoroughly. He knew he shouldn't have been anticipating more than a light supper and drinks. But his body was already responding to the memory of their mutual wank session. He couldn't help but hope for a repeat in person.

He thought perhaps it would be a good idea to wank in the shower so he didn't have a perpetual hard on throughout the date.

As a result, Harry wasn't left with much time to dress and fix his hair. Not that it mattered much. He had to wear a Glamour.

He'd already decided on his new look. His eyes changed from brilliant green to a dull grey and his hair from its usual state of disheveled to smooth, sandy blond. He changed the shape of his nose and squared his jawline. Though he no longer wore the dark round glasses frames of his youth, he still felt the need to alter them. And of course, he covered his scar.

He looked in the mirror. Manly and relatively handsome, yet non-distinct. Perfect.

Harry hadn't noticed that he had a voice message on his portable floo until he put it on. He shook his head, chuckling at the technology that wizards thought was cutting edge, when Muggles had been using something similar for years. He listened to the message.

 _Hello Charmer, this is Ophidian. It didn't sit right with me to break off my previous engagement via message. I decided to meet him to break it to him gently in person._

Ophidian snickered.

 _I'm supposed to meet him at half six at the Leaky Cauldron of all places. But I plan on being at The Three Broomsticks to supper with you. If I'm late, you'll have to forgive me._

Suddenly, Harry felt a sense of doom. The Leaky Cauldron at half six on a Friday. The same day, time and place Alley Cat insisted on meeting Harry. He looked at his pocket watch. 6:45.

"Fuck."

He flew out the door, forgetting his jacket, and apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. Trying to appear calm as he walked inside, Harry scanned the room. As usual, it was crowded on a Friday night. Booths and tables alike were full. The bar was two deep with people looking for a much needed drink to end their work week.

He took a moment to breathe. He was never going to figure out which pair of men were Ophidian and Alley Cat if he kept panicking.

On a second look around, Harry spotted a few familiar faces. Aurors Peters and O'Neil were standing at a high top table. They might be off duty, but he knew they would pitch in if needed. He noticed Susan Bones waiting tables at the far end of the pub. A quick glance to his right brought Draco Malfoy into view. He sat in a booth with another man. Because of his angle, Harry could only see the man's profile in the dimly lit bar. Their conversation appeared to be a little less than friendly.

Malfoy looked up at Harry and caught him watching. Luckily, Harry was wearing his Glamour.

Harry walked to the bar, pretending to wait to order as he scanned the rest of the tavern. No one carried a rose, that he could see. Taking a peek at his pocket watch, he saw that he only had five minutes before he was supposed to meet Ophidian back in Hogsmeade.

His gaze involuntarily kept turning to Malfoy and his companion. Was Malfoy Alley Cat? Could he possibly be Ophidian? That thought was ludicrous. The rude man who made a date with Harry for the following week was much more likely to be Malfoy. Or, he still might turn out to be Silver Spoon. Harry shook his head. He didn't even know for certain Malfoy was gay. There'd never been rumors that he could recall. Then again, he hadn't given Malfoy a second thought after his trial. As he watched the pair, he noticed that Malfoy's hair retained the pale blond color of his youth. It still appeared baby fine and smooth. He and his friends had made fun of Draco's hair and pointy features when they were children. But over the years, those features had become the high cheekbones and lean jaw that made his face delicate, yet manly now.

The man reached out and grabbed Malfoy's arm. Malfoy tried to pull away but the man held tight. Harry began to move forward, but had second thoughts. They might be friends, or relatives. It could simply be a lover's spat. That was something Harry definitely didn't want to get in the middle of.

Then he saw it. As Malfoy turned to retrieve his wallet, the man across from him poured something into his drink. That was enough for an Auror to interfere. He moved forward just as a brawl broke out at the bar. The crowd backed away from the fighting men, pushing Harry further away from Malfoy's booth. His view was momentarily blocked.

By the time Peters and O'Neil dispersed the fight, and Harry could see Malfoy's booth, both men were gone. So were the contents of Malfoy's glass.

"Fuck."

He ran toward the door, getting outside in time to see Malfoy leaning heavily on the man with him, appearing drunk. Outside, in the dark, Harry still couldn't get a good look at the man.

"Oi! You there, stop!" Harry shouted, taking out his wand.

Instead of stopping, or running as Harry suspected he would do, the man used Malfoy as a human shield and cast a curse at Harry. He was able to block it easily enough. But he was hesitant to return the hexes for fear of accidentally hitting Malfoy. The curses kept coming and all Harry could do was block them. Surprisingly, the man still continued to drag Malfoy along with him.

Eventually giving up on Malfoy, the man let him fall, then cast an unforgivable, which fortunately didn't hit its mark. Desperate to stop him, Harry finally cast a curse.

"Expelliarmus!"

The assailant blocked the spell, then disapparated before Harry could catch him.

"Fucking hell."

He walked back to where Malfoy lay in a crumpled pile. He used his portable to contact St. Mungo's to send a healer to tend to Malfoy. After giving the healer a description of what he saw, Harry went back inside the pub to retrieve Malfoy's glass.

Unfortunately, the booth had been cleared and a party of four now occupied the space. It was a boisterous group, laughing while they tossed a wilted rose at one another.

"Excuse me," Harry said. "Where did you get that?"

A girl smiled at Harry, holding up the rose. "This? We found it on the seat."

"In this booth?"

"Yes." She held it out to him. "Do you want it?" she flirted.

Before he could stop himself he said, "Yes. Thank you."

The girl pouted a bit as Harry walked away without giving her a second thought.

On the off chance that it was a coincidence that Malfoy happened to be carrying a rose, the same as Ophidian, Harry disapparated to The Three Broomsticks.

There were a few men alone at the bar but none wore or carried a rose. Everyone else in the restaurant sat in groups of two or more. The hostess approached him

"Would you like a table or do you want to sit at the bar?"

"Oh, um, I was supposed to meet someone, but I don't think he's here. Unless you've seen a man carrying a rose."

"Only you," she smiled.

He looked down at his hand. "Oh, right. Thank you. I don't think I'll be staying."

"Be careful, you'll catch your death," she called after him.

"Sorry?"

"Don't you have a coat? It's quite cold outside. It might snow."

"No, I . . . forgot it." He realized he forgot to wear the red scarf as well. At least Malfoy didn't know who he was.

oOo

"Good evening. Auror Potter," Harry said, holding up his identification.

The Welcome Witch at St. Mungo's giggled. "Mr. Potter, you don't need to show your ID here."

Harry nodded and put it away. Though he was one of the most recognized wizards, he still followed procedures the same as any other Auror.

"I was hoping to check up on a patient that was brought in earlier."

"Certainly. Name?"

"Draco Malfoy." She couldn't possibly have any idea of their possible relationship, but he still felt himself blush.

Fortunately, the witch didn't notice as she looked through the admittance parchments.

"He's in room two-twelve. Visiting hours are over but I think under the circumstances, it would be all right for you to go in."

"The circumstances?"

"You're an Auror. I assume you're investigating what happened?"

"Oh, yeah. Was he drugged?"

"You can speak with Healer Martin if you'd like. I'm not supposed to give out the particulars."

"Thank you. I'll talk to him later."

Harry walked through the doors that separated the waiting room from the hospital proper and walked down the hall toward two-twelve. The healer happened to be walking out as Harry approached.

"Healer Martin?"

"Yes. Oh, you're Harry Potter. I mean, Auror Potter." The healer held out his hand to shake.

At first puzzled that the healer didn't realize they'd met earlier that evening, Harry remembered that he had been wearing a Glamour before.

"How is the patient?" he asked.

"He'll make a full recovery. Eventually."

"He was drugged?"

"Poisoned, actually. Fast acting. It could have done a lot more damage if it weren't for that good samaritan acting quickly."

Harry nodded. He wasn't in any position to disclose his involvement.

"Is it the same one used in the recent string of murders?"

The healer frowned. "I don't know. I can tell what Mr. Malfoy was given, but the coroner would have been the one to determine the cause of death in the other cases."

"I'd appreciate a report if you wouldn't mind. For comparison. It's quite possible Mr. Malfoy was intended to be the sixth victim."

"I understand. I'll send a copy to the Ministry as soon as possible."

"Thank you." Harry paused. He wondered if the healer would think it was odd if he wanted to go into Malfoy's room. "Is he awake? Would I be able to question him?"

"I'm afraid he's out. His organs began to shut down, but I believe we got all of the poison out. I've given him a sedative so he can rest and let his body heal."

"When do you think he'll be able to talk with me, or another Auror?" Harry added.

"Come back Sunday afternoon. He should be up to it."

"And, you're sure he'll be all right? He won't have any lasting effects of the poison?

"No, I expect not." The healer gave a small smile. "You seem very concerned. A short visit, just to put your mind at ease, would be all right I suppose."

"Thank you." Harry shook the healer's hand again and went inside.

The room was darkened, but he could just make out Malfoy's form lying in the bed. While Harry stood silently, he could hear the other man's soft, rhythmic breathing.

Calm on the outside, his mind raced. Putting all the pieces together, Harry couldn't deny it was very likely that Draco Malfoy was the man he had been developing feelings for over the past few weeks.

He ran his hands through his hair. To say that he had mixed feelings about this revelation was a gross understatement. On one hand, Ophidian had been the most charming, funny and sexy man Harry had encountered in a long time. On the other hand, he was Malfoy, someone he hated as a boy. But Malfoy had tried to somewhat redeem himself at the end of the war. Harry could acknowledge that, at least. Was it enough?

And what about Malfoy? The moment he realized Snake Charmer was Harry, he'd be gone and never look back. Even if Harry was willing to give it a go, there was no way Malfoy would.

"What am I thinking?" Harry asked himself. "Am I actually considering this?"

Malfoy groaned.

"Shite," Harry whispered.

"Is someone there?"

Harry froze. Should he reveal himself or hope that Malfoy would fall back asleep?

"I can hear you," Malfoy said wearily. "Are you the matron?"

Silently cursing himself again, Harry stepped forward.

"No. I'm sorry to have woken you."

"Who– who are you? It's dark."

Harry cleared his throat. "Auror Potter."

Malfoy chuckled, then coughed, so much that Harry nearly called for the matron, before Malfoy settled.

"Harry Potter. Well, this is a surprise. Come to finish the job?"

"I'm investigating your attack."

"You? What happened, get the short straw?"

"I should go. The healer wanted you to sleep."

Malfoy shifted on the bed and groaned again.

"Are you in pain? Would you like me to call for the healer?" Harry offered.

"No . . . I'm all right. My stomach is a bit queasy." He sighed, settling into the bed again. "Are you really investigating?"

"Yes, of course. What do mean by that?"

Letting out a small snicker, Malfoy asked, "Does anybody care what happens to a Death Eater?"

"I thought you were a former Death Eater," Harry found himself smirking.

"That's a distinction most people don't make."

"Oh." Suddenly Harry was uncomfortable with the conversation. He'd always assumed Malfoy got whatever backlash he deserved. He also assumed all that was behind his former rival at this point. "Well, I'm going to do whatever I can to find the person who did this to you."

Momentarily speechless, Malfoy finally found his voice. "Thank you."

"Now I really should let you rest. I don't think your healer will be pleased that I woke you."

Harry began to walk out, then Malfoy spoke again. "You're different."

"Than what?" Harry paused.

"Than what I expected."

Harry merely nodded, then walked out.

He would be thinking on that one for a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry spent all day Saturday going over possibilities in his head. It was difficult to sort out what he knew from what he suspected. And even more difficult to figure out what he hoped and what he dreaded.

Declining Ron's invitation to shop in Diagon Alley for Hermione's Christmas gift, Harry had nothing to do but sit by the fire and think.

The facts as he saw them were these: Malfoy was not the murderer, Ophidian did not show up to their date, and Harry had a date that night with Silver Spoon, whom he still thought could possibly be Malfoy.

Everything else about the case was conjecture until he spoke with Malfoy and got reports from both the coroner and Healer Martin.

That left Harry to sort out his _feelings_ regarding Ophidian.

First of all, he decided that in the unlikely case he turned out to be the killer, that would be the end. No matter how charming the man was, Harry couldn't have any sort of relationship with him. That was a given. Secondly, he hadn't had any real, long lasting relationships in his life up to that point. So the thought of having a boyfriend was actually a bit scary for him. He'd mostly had one offs with boys from the Muggle clubs. There had been a few repeat performances with some who were regulars, like he was. But he couldn't justify trying to date someone that he would have to hide half of his life from. It would be much too complicated. Which led him to number three. He would disclose all of his involvement to Ophidian and let him decide if Harry's dishonesty was too much to bear. There wasn't much Harry could do if Ophidian turned him away because of it.

He didn't even want to think about the fourth, and possibly the most monumental problem. What would he do if Malfoy was indeed Ophidian? That was the big question. It could have been a complete coincidence that Malfoy was at the Leaky Cauldron and someone tried to poison him.

Their encounter Friday night was civil. Clearly, Malfoy expected Harry to be less than friendly, or even hateful. But when Harry showed him kindness, he returned the sentiment. He wasn't sure exactly what Malfoy meant when he said Harry was different. But it sounded like it was a good thing.

His head was beginning to hurt from thinking. Harry sighed as he began to get ready for his date that night. There were no butterflies, no anticipation. Only the hope that Silver Spoon would try to get him back to his home to kill him.

 _There's something wrong when the highlight of your day is hoping someone tries to kill you_ , Harry thought.

oOo

Saturday night, sitting in The Peacock, Harry was going through the motions behind his Glamour. The man sitting across from him, Silver Spoon, was droning on and on about his career, particularly his adoring fans. Harry immediately recognized the man as Merton Graves, the cellist for the Weird Sisters, but he didn't let on right away. Before long, it became impossible to ignore. Simply waiting at the podium for their table had been an ordeal. Several people had asked for autographs or photographs. The server nearly fell at Graves' feet while totally ignoring Harry when it came to taking their order. The night couldn't end quickly enough.

Merton laughed. Not a pleasant sound. "I feel like I've been talking about myself all night. Let me hear about you Snake Charmer. Are you going to tell me your real name?"

"Ted," Harry lied.

"And what do you do for fun, Ted?"

"I collect antique broomsticks."

"Oh, is that fun?"

Harry shrugged. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," Merton replied. "Do you want to know what it's like to be famous?"

"Not particularly," Harry rolled his eyes. "Why would you need a dating service? Everybody loves a rock star. You could get any man you wanted."

"Probably," Merton answered without a shred of humility. "I didn't want someone dazzled by my fame. I didn't want a groupie."

Harry nodded. He could certainly understand that. That was the whole reason he had mainly stuck to Muggle bars for one offs. But he longed for a real relationship, one like Ron and Hermione's.

"Can I ask _you_ something?" Graves asked.

"Sure."

"Well, I guess it's more of an observation. You don't seem at all impressed by my fame or career. Usually by this point in a date, I'm getting a blow job."

Harry choked on his treacle tart and had to wash it down with the awful wine Merton chose.

"Sorry? Were you expecting me to . . ."

"No, no. I was only saying that most men I've dated can't wait to get to," he glanced around, "you know, the good part."

"I thought the good part was supposed to be getting to know someone. Finding out what you have in common and seeing if you're compatible. I could go to a pub and pick up a random bloke if all I wanted was a quick fuck."

"You do seem quite fit," Graves observed. "You also seem uninterested in me. It's strange, but I kind of like it. I've never met someone who didn't fall all over themselves to get in my good books. You'd be a good challenge for me."

"Look, no offense Mr. Graves–

"Mert."

"No offense Mert. I probably shouldn't have kept the date. The fact is, I'm interested in someone else. And I really can't stop thinking about him."

Mert leaned his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands, listening intently. "Is he rich?"

Harry frowned. "Well, yes, I suppose. But that's not why I'm interested."

"Then what is it about this fellow that has you thinking about _him_ while you're sitting here with me?" Merton seemed genuinely curious. He wasn't upset about Harry's lack of attention, simply puzzled by it.

"I'm not sure, exactly," Harry admitted. "I met him on the service, same as you. It's not his looks, because I didn't have any idea what he looked like until last night." Subconsciously, Harry was bracing himself for the probability that Malfoy was Ophidian.

"Oh, you've seen him then. And what do you think, now that you have?"

"It's complicated. I suspect my judgement of his appearance has been swayed by his personality."

"That didn't really answer my question," Graves chuckled. "Do you think he's hot?"

Harry blushed. "I . . . he's . . . like I said, it's complicated, but, yes, I am finding myself attracted to his looks." It was the first time Harry admitted to himself that he liked the way Malfoy looked.

"Is he better looking than me? I'm only joking," the rock star added quickly. "I'm afraid the only thing I know how to talk about is myself and my career. But I find you entertaining. I'm enjoying listening to you talk. I don't understand, though, if you're clearly attracted to this man, why aren't you with him? Does he not return your feelings?"

"I have no idea," Harry sighed. "He doesn't know who I really am yet. When he finds out, he won't be pleased."

"Ooh, sounds like there's a past between you."

So maybe Mert wasn't as dull as he seemed.

"Yes, and not a friendly one."

"But you're willing to look past that. And you don't think he will?"

Harry nodded.

Merton sat up straight. "Well, if you ask me, you need to decide what you're going to do about this, then do it. If you want this fellow badly enough, go to him and confess your feelings. If you can't get over the past, let him go and come to my mansion with me. I'll give _you_ the blow job. Believe me, that's never an offer I make first."

Harry laughed. He was flattered by the offer. Under different circumstances, he would have accepted it. Who wouldn't want to go home with a famous musician?

Harry wouldn't.

"Thank you, but I think perhaps I'll try the first option."

"Your loss," Mert shrugged. "I've got two tongue piercings and I'm told they really add to the experience."

"It's tempting," Harry said genuinely. Once Mert stopped going on about himself and his possessions, he was quite personable. "However, I want to give this other relationship a go."

"Well, if it doesn't work out . . ."

"I'll call you. Do you mind if I give you a small piece of advice?"

"Not at all." Mert leaned forward.

"Don't talk about how rich you are, or how many blokes you've bedded, or how many number one songs you've had in the past ten years. People already know that from reading the papers."

"Then what should I talk about?"

"Talk about yourself, as a person. What you like to do in your spare time, what your family is like."

"Yeah, I could tell some stories about my family. Dad in particular," Mert laughed.

"Or listen to what _they_ have to say. I'm sure there are blokes out there with much more interesting stories than me."

"And don't offer a hummer right off the bat?"

Harry chuckled. "Well, I wouldn't necessarily take that completely off the table. But at least wait to see if you're actually interested in the man."

Mert nodded. "I give all that a try."

Harry reached into his pocket for some money. "I should be going. It was . . . a thought provoking evening. Good luck in the future."

"Put your money away, this is on me. It's the least I can do. You're the first person who's been honest with me in a long time. If it doesn't work out with your guy, keep in touch."

Harry smiled and bowed his head slightly, then left the restaurant. He had a lot to think about.

oOo

Sunday afternoon, Harry wandered to the welcome witch's desk, as he had done on Friday night. A different witch was on duty but, but she was no less welcoming.

"Good afternoon, Auror Potter."

"Good afternoon." He showed his unnecessary ID, then put it back in his wallet. "I was hoping to question one of your patients. Healer Martin said it would be all right."

"Oh, yes. He made a note that you would be here to see Mr. Malfoy. You may go back. Do you need his room number?"

"No. I remember where he is."

Harry could have gotten another Auror to question him. But he was hoping to get a little more out of Malfoy than information about the attack. He justified it to Shacklebolt by claiming only he would know the right questions to ask.

He stood outside the door and took a deep breath, then knocked. A voice on the other side beckoned him to come in.

Peeking his head in the door, he asked, "Is this a bad time?"

Draco sat up a bit and smoothed out the covers on his bed. "Oh, you actually came back?"

His brow furrowed, Harry replied, "Yes, of course. I need to ask you some questions about Friday night. Are you up to it?"

"I'm fine. They're releasing me later. Just waiting on one last poking and prodding."

Harry laughed lightly. He'd been on the receiving end of plenty of poking and prodding himself, having been injured or hexed a fair amount during his short career as an Auror.

"Well, this should be relatively painless. Would you mind if I used a dictating quill? I promise it will only write what we say. It's not like Rita Skeeter's."

"No. That's fine." Malfoy made a subtle attempt to smooth out his hair. In his current state, he was feeling self conscious. A hospital gown and a lack of bathing didn't do much for his self image.

"Let's start with the man you were with that night at the Leaky Cauldron. Can you tell me his name?"

"I only know him as Alley Cat. I don't know his real name."

Harry tried not to notice Malfoy's blush.

"Is that a nickname?" He played dumb regarding the dating service.

"Um, sort of." Malfoy hesitated, then admitted, "I joined an anonymous dating service. All of the members use pseudonyms."

"The name of the service?" Harry knew very well the name of it.

"Wizard to Wizard."

"And this man's alias is Alley Cat?"

Draco nodded.

"The witness nodded in confirmation," Harry said to the quill. To Draco, he asked, "Do you use one as well?"

"Yes." Draco wasn't volunteering much.

"What is it?" Harry tried to stay calm. He was grateful for the self writing quill, so he could hide his shaking hands.

"Ophidian."

For a second, Harry forgot to breathe. There was no conjecture anymore. Malfoy confirmed it. He wasn't expecting to get the information so quickly or easily. He pushed on through.

"Can you give me a description of this Alley Cat?"

"Yes. He was about my height, maybe a bit taller. He had brown eyes and pale skin. His hair was long, roughly to his shoulders, and it was nutmeg brown."

"Nutmeg brown? I'm not sure what that means."

"Brown with a bit of a reddish tinge."

"Oh." Leave it to Malfoy to know what color nutmeg is. "Any scars or distinguishing marks?"

"No blemishes at all, that I noticed. I can't really think of anything else."

"So, you were there for a date?"

"Well, originally I was supposed to meet him for a date. But I went to tell him that I couldn't stay."

"What happened when you did?"

"He became irritated. He told me that I would ruin everything if I left. I felt sort of badly for him, so I offered to stay for one drink. We each ordered a butter beer. I'd say I drank about half of it while we talked."

"What did you talk about?"

"He asked me a lot of questions about myself. I think he recognized me, though he didn't say as much. He said . . ." Malfoy blushed slightly, "that he was very attracted to me and he wanted to go to my place so we could . . ."

"He propositioned you for sex?"

"Yes. But I said no." Malfoy was clearly embarrassed having to relay the story to Harry.

"And what did he do when you declined?"

"He grabbed my arm. He begged me to stay. There was something off about him. He wasn't acting at all in a friendly manner. He seemed desperate and . . . angry."

"Then what?"

"I reached for my wallet to pay for my drink so I could leave. But when I turned back around, his demeanor had changed. He apologized and asked if I would please stay and finish my drink with him. At that point I thought he was perhaps unstable and I only wanted to leave. I tossed back the rest of my drink and started to get up. Some sort of row broke out in front of the bar. People were shoving and blocking my way. Alley Cat, or whatever, pushed a few blokes out of my way so I could leave. He followed me out and then . . ."

"Then what?" Harry asked.

"I really don't recall. I think I blacked out."

Malfoy's story matched up perfectly with what Harry observed. If they caught this man, their combined testimony would be damning.

"You've been very helpful. I'm confident we'll catch him."

"Can I ask you something? If you're allowed to answer."

"Um, sure."

"The healer said I was poisoned. Was it the same one used in those murders?"

Harry hesitated to confirm or deny Malfoy's suspicions. He figured he had a right to know.

"Yes." Harry had received the report from Healer Martin that morning.

Malfoy grew even paler than he was normally.

"The healer told me you will make a full recovery with no lasting effects. You were lucky."

"I'm such a fool."

"No, there was no way for you to know that man had intentions to harm, er, kill you. But now he's changed his pattern a bit. All the other victims were killed in their own homes. For some reason, he chose to poison you at the pub."

"Because I wouldn't take him home, I suppose."

Harry nodded. Without thinking it through, Harry blurted out, "There was a rose found in the booth you occupied. What do you know about it?" He was curious what he would say about it even though it had nothing to do with the case.

Malfoy closed his eyes. "A bit more humiliation won't make a difference at this point. I was supposed to meet another man that night. That was the reason I wanted to break off the first date. I was to carry a rose so he would know who I am."

"Obviously, you never met him. Have you been in contact with him since?"

"No. I haven't had access to a floo while in hospital."

Harry watched Malfoy lying in the bed, eyes closed against his humiliation and embarrassment. He seemed so vulnerable, it made Harry want to comfort him. But perhaps that was only because Harry knew he was Ophidian.

"Thank you," Malfoy said softly. "Especially for not mocking my . . . indiscretions. I'm sure you'll have a laugh later at my need to join a gay dating service to find companionship."

"I'm certainly not in a position to judge," Harry said.

Opening his eyes, Malfoy cocked his head. "Surely, Harry Potter has women tossing themselves at his feet," he snickered.

"Yes, all the time," Harry replied sadly. Fearing he'd given too much away, Harry again thanked Malfoy for his time and offered to keep him informed about the case.

"Thank you again. I'm sorry you had to spend your Sunday questioning a witness."

"No problem. I tend to keep odd hours anyway. Part of the job."

"What?" Malfoy blinked.

"Being an Auror. Sometimes we keep regular day hours. But often we'll work overnight and on weekends if we have to. You haven't put me out at all." Harry gathered up his quill and parchment.

"Oh."

Malfoy was looking at him strangely. Before, the man could hardly look him in the eye. But as Harry stood ready to leave, Malfoy's gaze was piercing, looking him up and down. Harry thought he was going to say something else, but then he suddenly glanced away, seeming uncomfortable. Harry was puzzled by his behavior and took the opportunity to leave the room.

oOo

Monday morning Harry sat at his desk across from Ron fitting together the pieces of the Pureblood Murders. That's what the papers had taken to calling them. Personally, Harry thought it was an unimaginative name.

Most of the Aurors had heard about the attack on Draco, but didn't necessarily realize it was related to the murders. Ron did and, of course, Shacklebolt, as Harry kept them apprised of the case.

"I can't believe you saved Malfoy's life. _Again_ ," Ron shook his head.

"Ron, I couldn't let him die. I can't anybody die. My job is to save people."

"I know, but . . . was the little snot even grateful?"

"Actually," Harry bit his lip, "he was quite thankful. Humble even."

Ron scoffed. "A Malfoy, humble? Ha!"

"Really. He expected me to kick him when he was down. He practically said as much. In fact, he wasn't expecting anyone to investigate his attack at all."

"Maybe he's finally learned his place."

"I know he was a total prat in school . . ."

"And a Death Eater," Ron reminded him.

"I haven't forgotten," Harry said. "But I do think he's changed."

"I guess people can change a little," admitted Ron. "That family has been a bunch of prats for generations. I don't see that sniveling Draco to be the one to break out of it."

"Maybe not. I don't know. All I do know is that he's the only victim who can identify the killer, and I need him alive and well. I've got 'round the clock protection at the mansion and his shop."

"You're right. Harry, you could wrap up this case single-handedly. Shacklebolt would _have_ to give you a promotion."

Harry blushed. "I admit I have thought of that. I think I'm ready to lead a team. I hope this is the case that proves I've got what it takes."

"You'd better request me on your team if he does promote you."

"Of course. You're my first choice," Harry laughed.

"But it's a shame you didn't get to meet that snake bloke."

"What?"

"You were supposed to have a date with that other fellow until Malfoy went and messed it up by getting poisoned."

"Oh, right." Harry waved it off. "It's not a big deal."

Ron leaned back in his chair. "Harry, you were looking so forward to that. I remember you could hardly concentrate all day. Did you talk to him? Did he understand why you didn't show up?"

"I did show up. He was the one who didn't show."

"Shite. I'm sorry. That's probably why you didn't want to talk about it."

Harry nodded. But as he sat there he gave thought to the fact that his Ophidian nearly died. The knot he felt in his stomach over it must have shown on his face, and Ron caught on.

"Aw, Harry. There are plenty of other blokes. You know, if you would come out, you could have lots of dates. Any guy would be lucky to have you."

Harry rubbed his eyes. "It's not that. And you know I'm not ready to come out."

"What is it then?"

"I found out who Ophidian is."

"Fuck. Don't tell me it's the killer. Wait, I don't understand. If he didn't show up to your date, how did you find out who he is?"

Harry sat for a moment deciding whether or not to tell Ron. However, he needed desperately to talk to someone about it.

"Ophidian didn't show up to The Three Broomsticks because . . . he was taken to St. Mungo's . . . for poisoning."

Ron sat expressionless for so long, Harry began to worry.

"You're fucking with me, right?"

"No. I wish I was."

"So, that other bloke we thought was Malfoy, wasn't. And the man you– oh fuck." Ron's eyes widened.

"Yeah," said Harry quietly. "I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean? You don't know what to do about _what_? Merlin, Harry, you're not still considering going out with him, are you?"

"No. I don't know. Maybe."

"But it's . . . _Malfoy_."

"I _know_. But before I found out, I felt like I could have something real with this man. They way we talked so comfortably and the things we have in common–

"What could you possibly have in common with Malfoy?"

"Apparently more than I ever realized." Harry cradled his head. "I know that logically, it could never work and I should just take my profile off the dating service and refuse his floo calls. But I can't forget the long conversations, the animated, yet friendly, disagreements, and I most especially can't forget the way he made me feel. He made me feel special,"

"You _are_ special."

"Because of what I did. People think just because I did something extraordinary means I'm special. I'm just me now. I'm an Auror who has to climb the ranks like any other. I'm a man who's still afraid to come out. I'm just an ordinary man. But he made me feel like that was enough."

Ron's brow furrowed. "It's kind of hard to argue with that. I know what you mean, though. Hermione makes me feel that way. I'm just an idiot who was lucky enough to fall in with the best mates a man could have."

"That's not true. I was the one one who was lucky to have the two of you. I still am."

Ron sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair. "So . . . what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I think I need to wait and see what happens. I just needed to tell someone."

"I'm glad you told me. Whatever you decide to do, I'll support you. But I can't say that I'll ever trust Malfoy."

"Yeah, well, I don't even know if I will. You think I'm barmy, don't you."

"A bit," laughed Ron.

oOo

A few days later, after refusing calls from Ophidian, Harry was beginning to feel guilty. Not only guilty, he was growing anxious to see Malfoy again. Ophidian/Malfoy occupied most of Harry's thoughts. Ron tried to keep him distracted, but it only worked for so long.

And when Ron went to lunch with Hermione, Harry was left alone to get into all sorts of trouble.

He rolled up his sleeve and activated the portable floo on his Auror line.

"Hello? Who's this?" Ophidian's voice immediately comforted Harry. The portable distorted it somewhat, but now that he knew to whom he was speaking, he could tell that it was also Malfoy's voice. "There's a bad connection. I can't see you."

"It's, um, Harry. Potter. Er, Auror Potter," he stammered. He cleared his throat and tried again to sound more authoritative, and not at all like Snake Charmer. "Auror Potter here. I had a few more questions for you regarding your attack."

"Oh. Are you on a portable floo? I can't see you."

"Yes. They're pretty much standard issue for Aurors these days," Harry explained.

"I see. What questions do you have?"

"I'd rather not speak over the floo. Would it be all right if I came to your shop?"

"I'd rather not have you visit here. People get a bit jumpy at the sight of an Auror in Knockturn Alley. It's bad enough I have a body guard hovering over me."

"I understand," Harry said. "Is there somewhere you'd be comfortable meeting?"

Draco paused. "It's nearly my lunch time. How about one of the cafés in Diagon Alley?"

"Fine. Which one?"

"The one with the blue and white umbrellas. They have counter service and you can sit wherever you like. Ten minutes?"

"All right." Harry wasn't sure how to end the call. It wasn't a date they just planned, but in a way, he felt like it was. At least on his end. "See you then."

After he hung up, Harry ran his fingers through his hair. He had to stop acting like giddy school girl every time he had an encounter with Ophidian. Malfoy.

He gathered his dictating quill and parchment, and left the office before Ron could come back and talk him out of meeting Malfoy. Quickly apparating to Diagon Alley, Harry was hoping to beat Malfoy to the cafe and practice appearing calm before their meeting.

"Shite," he muttered when he saw the blond head waiting in the queue at the counter. He queued behind the last person, pretending not to see Malfoy.

When Draco walked past, he acted as though he were seeing him for the first time, rather than staring at him for the previous few minutes.

"Oi, Malfoy."

Draco looked up. "Oh, hello."

"Why don't you grab a table and I'll join you in a moment." To Draco's shadow, he said, "Why don't you take a break? I'll keep an eye on him while we're here and escort him back to his shop. Be back there in, say, thirty minutes?"

"Thank you sir," the man bowed his head and was gone before Draco could protest Harry going to his shop.

Draco sighed, but didn't argue. Instead, he found a small empty table and sat down.

Meanwhile, Harry perused the menu for something that he wouldn't look foolish eating. Nothing too sloppy, or greasy. He didn't want Draco to think he ate poorly all the time. Soup was out. Harry always managed to spill some on himself. He settled on a salad with grilled chicken and vegetables, then found Draco sitting in front of a partially eaten sandwich.

"Why didn't you want to speak over the floo?" Draco asked.

"Mainly I didn't want anyone overhearing on your end. Not many people are aware of the connection between your attack and the murders."

"I have a floo in my private office. No one would have heard."

"I didn't know."

"You didn't even ask," Draco pointed out.

"Well, it gave your body guard a chance for a break at least."

"Trading one babysitter for another. Do you really think that man would come after me with my employees about? And how do you know where my shop is? I never even mentioned it."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Auror. I _do_ have some investigating skills."

"Right." Draco picked up his lemonade and took a sip. "What questions do you have for me?"

"Oh, yes," Harry nearly forgot why they were there in the first place. He got out the quill and parchment. "First, I wanted to know if there was anything else, any details you forgot to tell me."

Shaking his head, Draco replied, "I don't think so.

"Anything else about this man? I'm curious as to how he had gotten so many others to take him home, but not you."

"Well, he's quite attractive."

Harry subconsciously pursed his lips.

"But you said he wasn't very personable," Harry pointed out.

"Yes. But he is _quite_ attractive. I dare say he's probably the most attractive man–person, I've ever seen."

"That still doesn't explain why you turned him down."

Draco sighed. "But I already told you I had made another date for that same night. I'm not so shallow as to pass up someone truly interesting for a pretty face, despite what you think of me."

"Sorry," Harry muttered. "What can you tell me about this other man," he fished.

"I don't see what he has to do with any of this. I didn't even meet him. And he won't take my floo calls anyway."

"Is there any chance the two men could be working together?" Harry knew he should drop it, should he accidentally give something away. But he wanted– _needed_ to know what Draco thought of his Snake Charmer.

"No. I . . . _no_." Draco frowned. "Why would you even ask that? I didn't think I could be that wrong," he mumbled.

"Sorry? What did you say?"

"Nothing, I don't see a connection between the two men. I should be getting back to work."

Draco's demeanor had changed after Harry's last question. Clearly, he was perturbed by it.

Harry scooped up his salad, which he didn't touch, and his quill and parchment and followed Draco out the door.

"Do you really feel it's necessary to follow me back?" Draco seemed annoyed.

"Well, I told the other bloke I would. So, yes." Harry was still trying to figure out why their conversation went from pleasant to hostile in a flash. He attempted some neutral chit chat to leave Draco with a better impression. "So what sort of things do you sell at your shop?"

Slowly, Draco turned his head. The look he gave Harry said he wasn't any more pleased with this topic than the last.

"Are you serious? You found out where it is but didn't bother to find out what type of business I run?"

"Uh, I guess not." Harry rolled his eyes at own ridiculous. "So, what sort of business is it?"

"Potions and ingredients," Draco answered curtly.

"Do you enjoy it? Never cared much for potion making myself."

"Maybe you would have if you'd been better at it."

Harry stopped walking. A step or two later, Draco stopped and turned, giving him a questioning look.

Splaying his hands, Harry asked, "What did I say wrong? I know we've been . . . not friends. But I thought we were getting on all right."

"Um, yes, I suppose. I'm sorry. This whole situation has me a bit ruffled."

"I understand. I really do. I've had plenty of people try to kill me. But the difference is, I was expecting it. And I was prepared for it. That, I'm good at. Other things, not so much," he chuckled.

"Like what?" Draco resumed walking, and Harry kept up.

"Small talk. Big talk, sometimes."

Draco laughed, and Harry's breath was suddenly gone. "You're still sort of awkward, aren't you? Even after all the things you've accomplished and the accolades you've received, you're still insecure."

Harry frowned. Maybe he wasn't interested in Malfoy after all. Not if the prat was going to make fun of him.

"Well, nobody likes a cocky git anyway," Draco continued. "I should know. Here's my place." He pointed to a large picture window with a tasteful display of herbs and potion making supplies.

"Enchanted Elixirs? Not Malfoy's Mixtures or something to that affect?" Harry chuckled at his own humor.

Draco shrugged a shoulder. "I didn't want to use my name. Even in Knockturn Alley, I'm not exactly popular." He pushed the door open making the bell chime.

"Good afternoon, may I– oh, sorry Mr. Malfoy," a young witch blushed.

"Don't apologize Tiffany," he said. "I wish everyone would greet our customers so pleasantly."

"I heard that," a gruff voice called from somewhere behind the stacks of books.

Harry looked around.

"My partner. Uh, _business_ partner, I mean. I don't have a . . . well, you know already."

It was the first time Harry had seen Draco falter. He liked it.

"Eddie Carmichael. He was in Ravenclaw a year ahead of us," explained Draco. "He was looking for an investment and I had just finished my apprenticeship at Moribund's, which used to occupy this space. Moribund was ready to retire and we bought it from him. Eddie is an exceptional potion master. I have a talent for the front of the house, as it were. I travel the world procuring the highest quality ingredients. I also handle our distributors."

"Because he's _sooo_ charming," Eddie walked past and flicked at Draco's hair, clearly annoying him. "All the ladies love him," Carmichael snickered.

Draco smoothed his hair back in place. He exhaled with a groan, then glanced at Harry.

"I know. We seem an unlikely pair. He is exceedingly immature. Somehow, we've managed to turn a profit together."

"Would you mind if I looked around?" Harry asked. " Just until the guard comes back."

"Please," Draco inclined his head. "I'll be in my office if . . . you have any more questions."

Leaving Harry to look at his leisure, Draco walked to the back of the shop and closed the door.

"Anything in particular you're looking for?" The same girl who greeted them as they walked in smiled at Harry.

When he realized he was still staring at the door to Draco's office, he turned to her shook his head. To his chagrin, she winked at him.

After a short while, the chime over the door rang again and the body guard walked in. He was there to relieve Harry, so there wasn't any reason for him to stay. No reason besides wanting to talk to Draco. But he was out of excuses. He couldn't bother him a third time with useless questions. And he certainly wasn't going to ask him out socially.

It was then that Harry got a brilliant idea. It was chancy. And he should technically run it by Shacklebolt before talking with Draco. But before he could stop himself, he was knocking on the office door.

"Come in," a weary voice called.

As Harry crossed the threshold, Draco turned, clearly not expecting it to be Harry standing there.

"I thought you were Tiffany."

For the second time that day, Harry couldn't breathe. Draco had obviously been in the middle of changing his clothes. His tie was gone and his button down shirt hung all the way open, revealing his his smooth, lean chest. But it was his trousers that caught Harry's eye. Unbuttoned and unzipped, the low hanging trousers revealed enough of the outline of Draco's cock in his pants to make his own cock begin to rise. Fortunately, he was wearing robes. It took every ounce of self control not to adjust himself in front of Draco.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered, yet he couldn't look away.

Draco pulled his shirt closed, covering is open trousers at the same time.

"Was, was there something else?"

"What?" Harry blinked. "Yes. I forgot to mention that I have a . . . meeting with Alley Cat for this Friday. With all the information you've given me, I'm confident I'll be able to take him in."

"You forgot? How in Merlin's name did you even manage to get in touch with him?"

"Well, I'm probably not supposed to tell you." Harry scratched his head.

"Then why are you?"

"I had a thought. If you came to the pub, disguised or hidden of course, and you could positively identify him, I could take him in straightaway. I wouldn't have to wait for him to do anything suspicious."

As Draco thought about it, he let his shirt fall open again. Harry had to concentrate to stay on task.

"You'd be perfectly safe. I promise. I'll have back up and he'll never see you."

"All right," Draco said slowly. "If you really think it will help."

"Great. I'll talk to Kingsley about it as soon as possible. Um, I'll let you get back to . . ."

Draco looked down at his state of undress. "I was going to make a potion. A little messy. I usually change into something more casual."

Avoiding eye contact, Harry nodded and quickly left.

"Breathe, you idiot," Harry berated himself while he walked out of the Alley. "What the fuck has gotten into me?"

oOo

"Out of the question, Harry," Kingsley shook his head. "I can't let you purposely put a civilian in danger.

"But he won't be," Harry protested. "Alley Cat, or whoever he is won't even know Draco is there. I have a plan. And it's a good one."

Kingsley sighed heavily. Harry did normally have a plan. And it was usually a good one. "All right. Let's hear it."

"Okay, you know I have a date set up with the suspect on Friday at six thirty. The plan is for Draco and me, plus back up, to be in the pub by six. Draco and I will hide under my invisibility cloak and wait for the suspect to enter. Draco can identify him and we can take him in."

"But you can take him in without Mr. Malfoy's help. He can identify him once he's in custody."

"You know I won't be able to do a thing unless this man tries to attack me. I didn't get a look at his face the night he poisoned Draco. If we apparate to the safe house and he suspects it's not my home, he's not going to tip his hand. He'll be gone, and there's nothing we could do about it. He won't set up another date with me. And we don't have time for me to set up a new alias on the dating service. It's taken weeks to get to this point. I have _one_ shot at this. And I need Draco's help."

What Harry had in his favor was that, although it began as a ploy to keep Malfoy close, it had become their best hope of catching the killer.

"I want a minimum of three Aurors with you."

"Absolutely," Harry agreed.

"Davis is already familiar with the case. "

"All right. Aurors Peters and O'Neil frequent the Leaky Cauldron so they will blend in," Harry said. "So does this mean I have your permission?"

"Yes. However, you'll have to disclose your involvement in this case. I'm not saying you have to tell them the true reason you were chosen for this assignment, but you know how rumors get started. Gossip spreads around here like butter."

"I know sir. But I think this is important enough to take that risk. As long as there aren't any repercussions if I should . . . reveal myself."

"Of course not. Not officially anyway. I can't guarantee that everyone will be accepting."

"I understand. I'll inform Draco and get him prepared for his first undercover op."

"Quite literally," Kingsley laughed.

oOo


	6. Chapter 6

oOo

It was warm under the invisibility cloak. Warmer than Harry had anticipated. Draco was standing unbearably close and Harry was beginning to rethink his plan. It was too late.

"I wish I had worn something lighter," Draco lamented. "It's very hot under here."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. It sure was hot. "This cloak seemed a lot bigger when I was a kid."

"It's all right."

It may have been Harry's imagination, but he thought Draco actually moved a little closer. Not that he could have moved away any farther without revealing himself. Harry knew they had no choice but to stand with body parts touching. Unfortunately, they weren't the body parts he'd prefer to be touching.

 _What is wrong with me?_ Harry thought to himself. _I'm supposed to be protecting this man, not molesting him. How did I go so quickly from shocked and disappointed that Malfoy is my anonymous crush, to wanting to fuck him right here under this cloak?_

Trying his best to act professionally, Harry explained where everyone was to be and the anticipated sequence of events.

"Auror Davis is at the bar, the one in the green jumper. Peters and O'Neil are the two blokes standing at the high top table. The server is going to keep that table in the middle open for me. When Alley Cat shows up, we'll sit there so you can see what going on."

Draco nodded. He turned his head to face Harry. Under the cloak, their faces were mere inches apart.

"Once our man comes in and you identify him, I want you in this alcove."

"Wh-what?" Draco's breath was warm on Harry's face.

"I said, I want you . . ."

Harry could have sworn Draco leaned forward. Their lips were nearly touching when a sudden burst of laughter nearby startled them apart.

Harry cleared his throat. "I want you to hide in this alcove. Don't come out for anyone but me or the other Aurors."

Draco simply nodded, still staring at Harry's lips.

"Is that him?" Harry whispered, jerking his head toward the handsome man walking to the bar. He was wearing the same overcoat Harry remembered from before.

Turning away, Draco watched Alley Cat as he ordered a drink at the bar, then turned to scan the room.

"That's him," he confirmed. "That's the man I met here last Friday."

"And you're willing to testify to that?"

"Absolutely."

Harry looked Draco sternly in the eye. "Stay under the cloak and out of the way no matter what happens."

"I will."

Hesitating for just a moment, Harry took out his wand and spelled his Glamour on so he wouldn't be recognized. He slipped out from under the cloak, hiding behind a group of people until he was certain Alley Cat wasn't looking his way.

He approached the bar near their target and ordered a butter beer. The bartender had a special non-alcoholic drink set aside for him. He had no intention of impairing his senses, but thought it would look odd if he didn't have a drink while in the pub.

After receiving his pint, Harry turned and smiled at the suspect. "Please tell me you're the man I'm supposed to meet," he laughed, trying to be winsome.

Draco was correct. The man was absolutely gorgeous.

"That depends," he looked Harry up and down. "Are you a charmer?"

Harry grinned, though it was killing him to act pleasantly toward this man. "I am. A Snake Charmer. Are you an Alley Cat?"

The man nodded.

"Let's grab that table before someone else does," suggested Harry.

If Alley Cat thought it was strange that there was an empty table in the crowded bar, he didn't let on. The pair sat down. Susan Bones came over to give them menus, as Harry had arranged earlier. She knew to delay taking their order and delivering their food so that Harry could have time to get Alley Cat to talk.

"What looks good?" Harry asked as he perused his menu. "Besides you, of course." He planned to lay it on thick, hoping to loosen the man's tongue. Harry was hoping for a name, or anything incriminating.

Alley Cat snickered. "You're quite put together yourself. All that Pureblood upbringing, I imagine."

"I do have an image to uphold, I suppose." He took a drink of his fake butter beer. "Are you not into all the stodgy traditions?"

"No." Alley Cat's answer led Harry to believe he had a strong disdain for Pureblood wizards.

Before pushing his buttons on that issue, Harry tried to get some information out of him.

"How did you come to choose the name Alley Cat?"

"I frequent Diagon Alley. It seemed appropriate."

"Does 'cat' have any significance?"

"Not really. What about your name?"

"Snake Charmer?" Harry laughed. "I thought it would attract well endowed men. Or ones that thought they were, anyhow."

"What's your real name?" Alley Cat asked. "I don't recall ever seeing you around before. Wizarding London isn't all that big. I would have remembered a well to do Pureblood about town."

"Oh, I travel extensively. My home is out in the country, so I don't come to London all that often. I'm Ted." Harry held out his hand to shake.

Alley Cat took it and smiled in a way that gave Harry shivers. He'd rarely seen a leer like his. Even more rare was the cold steeliness of his gaze. "Hello Ted."

"Aren't you going to tell me your name?"

"No."

"No?" Harry tried to pull back his hand.

Alley Cat held tightly. "You know, I'm not really hungry anymore. Perhaps we could skip supper and get straight to pudding. Your place is in the country, you say?"

He smiled again. It was still predatory, and if Harry hadn't been an Auror, he would have been afraid of this man.

Harry subtly caught Auror Davis' eye, and scratched at his left earlobe, which was the signal to prepare to move in on the suspect.

"Well," Harry swallowed, "I thought we'd get to know each other a little better before jumping in the sack."

"Why wait?" Alley Cat licked his lips. He knew he was a handsome man, mesmerizing even. Draco turning him down the week before must have been a rare occurrence. "I'd love for you to take me home. I can show you a _very_ good time."

"All right. I will . . . if you tell me your real name." Harry had pushed. He took a gamble that wasn't going to pay off.

Becoming suspicious, Alley Cat released his hand and started to get up. Harry nodded once to Davis, who signaled the other two Aurors. Before Alley Cat's chair was out, the three Aurors pounced on him, tethering him with an anti-apparition spell.

Pub goers nearby noticed the scuffle and tried to get out of the way. Most of the crowd didn't realize what was happening until the man was apprehended.

"Did we get a positive I.D?" Davis asked.

"Yes. I couldn't get his real name, but he admitted to an alias–Alley Cat."

"We'll take him to the Ministry, unless you'd prefer to do the honours. It was your leg work, after all, that led to his capture."

"Um," Harry looked around. "No. I'm going to make sure the witness gets to the Ministry safely, so he can identify the suspect."

"Sure thing," Davis said. "Good work, by the way. I don't know how you did it. I didn't have any luck on that service," he laughed.

Harry just smiled.

Davis turned to walk with O'Neill and Peters to walk Alley Cat out of the pub where they disapparated to the Ministry.

As soon as the Aurors were gone, he removed his Glamour, then sought out Draco.

"Draco? Draco, where are you?" Harry frowned. It was much harder to find someone hiding under the invisibility cloak than he anticipated. He was feeling a bit of an idiot talking to an empty alcove.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his and pulled him under the cloak. Harry lost his balance and fell on top of Draco as they toppled to the floor.

"You got him," Draco said, not seeming to care that Harry's hip was resting heavily on his groin. "Did he tell you his name, or why he tried to kill me?"

"No. But I couldn't take a chance that he would get away. Someone will question him thoroughly. We'll get answers."

Draco gazed up at him. "You did it. You got him, like you said you would."

Harry nodded.

"Thank you," Draco whispered, still staring at Harry. He licked his lips.

"Well," Harry swallowed, "I should probably get you to the Ministry so you can make an official I.D."

"What?" Draco's brow furrowed. "That's it?"

"I, I need to get you to Shacklebolt."

Draco flung the cloak off them, and Harry scrambled to get off him.

"Fine," Draco snorted.

Harry took his arm for a side along, but Draco pulled away.

"I know how to get to the Ministry myself, Potter."

In an instant, he was gone.

"Shite," Harry cursed. Why the hell was Draco so hot and cold? Again, Harry had done something Draco didn't like and the little prat ran off.

Harry disapparated with his cloak in hand, hoping that Draco actually did go to the Ministry.

oOo

Much like a Muggle line up, there were several wizards of similar build and looks behind a two way mirror. Draco stood next to Kingsley as they watched the men turn to the left, then to the right, and finally, face forward.

"Second one from the right," Draco said confidently. "That's the man I was with at the Leaky Cauldron the night I was poisoned."

Harry quietly entered the dimly lit room, earning him a glare from Draco.

"Thank you Mr. Malfoy. We'll question him and determine if he'll stand trial. If that's the case, we'll need your testimony," Kingsley told him.

"All right," Draco replied.

"You're free to go. We'll be in touch." Shacklebolt nodded and left.

Draco stood watching as Alley Cat was taken away and the other men milled about. He suspected most of them were merely employees of the Ministry added to prevent bias.

Without looking at Harry, Draco asked, "So was it all just to get your murder suspect?"

"It was the goal of the investigation. You should be glad–

"Glad? Did you have a good laugh? Did you know it was me all along?"

Harry was confused. "I don't know what you mean. Why are you so angry with me? What the hell did I do _this_ time?"

" _This_ time? You mean, what have you been doing the _entire_ time? Coming on to me one minute, then insulting me the next. Practically kissing me under the cloak, then acting as if I was just another witness. I know it was you. Did you think you were so clever that I wouldn't figure out that you're Snake Charmer?"

Harry's mouth dropped open. His fantasy of making a fresh start and getting to know Draco as himself vanished. Draco thought he was making a fool of him. Harry couldn't blame him for thinking that.

"Or, maybe you just hoped." Draco pursed his lips and walked to the door. "Fuck you."

"Wait," Harry called.

Draco stopped but didn't turn around.

"I did hope you wouldn't figure it out."

Draco pulled the handle.

"But not for the reason you think."

Harry knew he had to continue talking to keep Draco in the room.

"You're right. I am Snake Charmer. And I suspected you were Ophidian before you told me. Nobody knows except Ron and Kingsley."

Letting go of the door handle, Draco turned around.

"You stopped responding to my calls and messages. Why were you ignoring me?"

"I–I wasn't. All right, maybe Snake Charmer was ignoring Ophidian. But _I_ wasn't ignoring _you_."

"Only because of the investigation."

"I kept your attention the only way I knew how. I told you I'm not very good at small talk." Harry's brow furrowed. "How did you know it was me, anyway?"

"I first suspected when you came to question me in hospital. I closed my eyes and listened to you speak. It was familiar, your way of talking, you have unique cadence. Nothing I could put my finger on, mind you. The tone of your voice is different on your portable. And then you said something about keeping odd hours for your job, which Snake Charmer also said."

"Circumstantial evidence," Harry smirked.

Draco moved back into the room, a little closer to Harry. "Then I noticed you were wearing a red scarf. I know, loads of people wear red scarves. But along with the other things, I began to seriously consider it. Of course, I had no idea you were gay, so I almost dismissed it. Until you barged into my office."

Harry blushed, recalling the incident. "You said to come in."

"I thought you were Tiffany."

"And it's all right for Tiffany to watch you undress?"

"I'm gay, she's a lesbian. It does nothing for either one of us."

"Her loss," Harry mumbled.

"Your portable floo was the clincher. Not many people have them."

"You have excellent powers of observation," Harry said. "You would have made a fair Auror."

"No thanks. I like my safe, little shop."

They both gave a small chuckle, then fell silent. Slowly, they had made their way toward each other, and were now only a meter apart.

"So, what do we do now?" Harry asked.

"What do you _want_ to do?"

"I . . . I want to keep seeing you, but I've run out of excuses." He took a deep breath. In a way, it was a relief to admit. On the other hand, he'd left himself vulnerable.

"You haven't asked me what I want."

"I know."

"Ask me."

Harry stared.

" _Ask_ me," Draco repeated. He took one more step toward Harry.

"Wh-what do you want?"

Harry's heart was pounding in his ears so loudly that he didn't hear Draco say, "You."

He didn't need to, though. Draco's answer was in the kiss he gently pressed to Harry's lips. Harry's mind went blank and his body moved on autopilot. His hands reached out, pulling Draco's hips against his own. In turn, Draco pushed Harry up against the wall. One hand tangled in Harry's hair. The other gripped Harry's shoulder.

One of them moaned, or maybe both of them, leading them to pull apart.

"Does that answer your question?" asked Draco.

Harry nodded, a bit dazed.

Draco smiled coyly. "So, now that we're finally on the same page, how about that date we never got a chance to keep?"

"You still want to go out with me, after I lied to you about who I was?"

"Not telling me who you really were wasn't exactly lying. It was an anonymous service. I didn't tell you my name either."

"But you didn't suspect me of murder."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I can hardly fault you for that. It was the point of you being on the service in the first place. And besides, you saved my life."

Harry frowned. "If this is some sort of repayment for–

"It's not. We made the date before we knew each other's identity. Wanting to get to know you better has nothing to do with your job."

"All right." Harry leaned forward intending to give Draco another kiss, but Draco's hand on his chest stopped him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Uh, I thought . . ."

"If we're going to do this, we should do it properly."

"But we've already kissed."

Draco shrugged. "A sneak preview, to make sure you show up for our date. Shall we say tomorrow night at The Three Broomsticks? Seven sharp."

"So late?"

"Half six."

"How about six?" Harry countered.

Grinning, Draco asked, "Impatient are we? All right, six o'clock. And no Glamour."

"But . . . you know I'm not out yet."

"I told you I was going to lure you out, didn't I? No Glamour. Those are my terms."

Harry sighed. "All right."

Draco nodded. "See you then." He left the room in a hurry, and Harry wondered if he was as tempted as Harry was to steal another kiss.

oOo

"Hey, mate!" Ron called through the floo to Harry Saturday morning. "Do you want to come through?"

"Um, actually, would you mind if we went out? I need to talk."

"Uh oh. Did everything go all right last night? Don't tell me the perp got away."

"No. That part worked out well. He's in custody. Draco officially identified him."

"Brilliant. Harry, you solved the case."

"Well, it's not over until he's brought before the Wizengamot. And I can't take all of the credit. I wouldn't have been able to do it without Draco's help."

"Only because you put all the pieces together. Kingsley has to give you that promotion now."

"I hope so. At first, he was totally against me bringing Draco to the Leaky. But I knew it would work out."

"Mate, that's, like, the third time you've mentioned Malfoy in as many minutes. What's going on?"

"Like I said, I need to talk."

"With or without Hermione?"

Harry groaned. "I think I know what she'll have to say. Without."

"All right. I'll meet you at our favorite Muggle coffee shop."

Fifteen minutes later, the pair was sitting in a tiny coffee house in Muggle London. Ever since Hermione introduced them to cappuccinos, they frequently went out to try all sorts of interesting Muggle coffee drinks. Harry's nerves made him far too anxious for coffee so he opted for a soothing chamomile tea.

"You can't get coffee like this in the wizarding world," Ron said, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. "I gotta hand it to the Muggles. This mocha latte is brilliant. It's like hot cocoa and coffee mixed together in one. And this cream on top with chocolate syrup. Mmmm."

"Are you finished making love to your drink?" Harry asked impatiently. He had more important things on his mind. "You're procrastinating because you don't want to talk about Draco."

"No. I don't. But obviously you do. So, go ahead."

Harry took a deep breath. "All right. I admitted to him that I'm Snake Charmer."

"Oh, shite. What did he do?"

"He kissed me."

Ron involuntarily gagged. "Sorry," he muttered at Harry's glare. "And you . . ."

"Kissed him back, of course."

"Shite. I guess you figured out how you feel about Malfoy being Ophidian."

Harry nodded.

"You like him?"

"Yeah." Harry stared down at the table. Even though Ron said he would support him, clearly the man was disturbed by Harry's admission.

"A lot?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Enough to kiss him."

"Yes." Harry was losing patience with Ron's slow acceptance of the facts.

"And, you want to . . ."

"Yes, Ron, I want to fuck him. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Not really." Ron sipped his delicious coffee drink, which suddenly didn't taste as good as it had before.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized. "I didn't mean to blurt it out like that." He still couldn't look Ron in the eye. His tea hadn't done much to calm his nerves.

"I'm really trying to understand," Ron said. "How can you get past everything that happened during the war? He was on the wrong side, for Merlin's sake."

"I know. But does that condemn him for life? He was a minor, whose parents dragged him into it. I haven't forgotten all that's happened between us. I can forgive him though. And he can forgive me. We all did things we wouldn't normally have done if it weren't for the war."

Ron recalled some of his own behavior toward his friends while they were on the hunt for Horcruxes.

"Yeah, I suppose."

Harry cleared his throat. "There's more."

"More?"

"We have a date tonight."

"Okay." Ron's brow furrowed. "People who like each other often want to have dates."

"At The Three Broomsticks, for supper."

"You mean, you're going out? _Out_ , out?"

Harry nodded.

"You're officially coming out then?"

"Two men can have supper together and not appear to be lovers, can't they? You and I go out all the time. Like right now."

"Yeah, well, we're not snogging or anything," Ron looked around to see if anyone was watching them. He wondered if people thought he and Harry were _together_ when they went places.

"I'm not going to snog Draco right in the middle of The Three Broomsticks either."

"So, you're going to hope nobody realizes you're on a date? If it was anybody else, I'd tell you that if you really like this bloke, go for it. Don't care what anyone else thinks. But if you're still not sure about coming out, maybe you don't like him quite as much as you think you do."

Harry opened his mouth to give a retort, but didn't have one. He wondered if Ron could be right.

oOo

Nervous and sweaty palmed, Harry walked into The Three Broomsticks. The same hostess from the last time he entered greeted him with a wide smile.

"Mr. Potter, welcome. Would you like a table or a seat at the bar?"

"Actually, I'm meeting someone." His gaze traveled to a corner booth occupied by a head of blond hair. "I can seat myself."

She handed him a menu and watched in surprise as he walked to Draco's table and sat down.

"Hello," he said, awkwardly.

"Hello. I have to admit, I'm sort of surprised you showed."

"Me too. About you, I mean," Harry chuckled.

The server came and took their drink order, telling them she would return for the food order. She wasn't very good at hiding her confusion at the pair of them.

"Is this going to be too . . . weird?" Harry asked.

"Probably."

"Have you changed your mind?"

"No. I mean, it won't be weird for me, but you look like you're about to jump out of your skin."

"I've never done this before," Harry confessed. "Not in a public wizarding place, at any rate."

"Yes, you told me. So, if you don't mind me asking . . . never mind."

"No, what were you going to ask?"

The corner of Draco's mouth rose. "If you've never done this before, how were you able to describe in such agonizing detail what you would do with Ophidian, should you get the chance?"

Harry blushed. He nearly forgot that Draco was privy to the conversations he'd had with Ophidian. And just when he was beginning to accept that it was Malfoy he was actually interested in.

The server briefly gave Harry a respite from answering. As soon as she left with their order in hand, Draco pushed for it.

"Well? Is it that you have an incredible imagination?"

"I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're implying. I'm plenty experienced. Just, not . . . in relationships. What about you?"

"I've had a few. Nothing long lasting, or particularly deep. But enough to know that I didn't want to waste my time hiding in a closet."

Harry bit his lip. "It's not the same for me as it is for you."

"How so?" Draco sipped his butter beer.

"Well, people already have a low opinion of you. You don't have to worry–

Draco rose from his chair and picked up his jacket.

"Wait, that didn't come out right," Harry said. "I'm not saying it's right or that I agree with it. Fuck. Why do I always say the wrong thing around you?"

"The answer to that question may mean the difference between me staying and me leaving," Draco said calmly, still standing.

Harry swallowed. It was too much pressure. How was he supposed to know the right answer when everything he said around Draco was always wrong?

"I don't know. You just . . . get me all flustered." Harry shook his head and sighed, resigned to the fact that this secret, out in the open date was never going to work.

Draco sat. "That was a good answer."

Harry tried again to smooth things over. "It's wrong, what I said."

"No, you're probably right. People _do_ have a low opinion of me."

"Then why were you going to leave?"

"Because sometimes, Potter, people don't want to hear the whole truth." He shook his head and snickered. "Do you think there was a man on that service that didn't stretch the truth?"

"I gave away much more than I meant to over those floo calls." Harry blushed, thinking about one in particular.

"I know. That was what made you different than the other men. I believed you."

"I did make up some stuff about myself."

"Not the stuff that mattered."

"You didn't seem to lie," Harry pointed out. "I can't think of anything you told me that I don't believe is true."

"Ironic, isn't it, that most people would expect me to be dishonest, and I almost always tell the truth."

"Almost?"

By then, their food had arrived. They ordered a couple more butter beers and ate while Draco explained himself.

"I could have told you sooner that I had figured out that you were Snake Charmer, I suppose. I could have told you that I was still interested, despite that fact."

"Is that why you got so angry when I questioned you about Snake Charmer?"

"I thought you were trying to throw me off your scent by implicating him, er, yourself. I wanted you to confess, but you didn't. And I felt foolish. After all, why would you ever want to get involved with me?"

Harry gave a little laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"I thought the same thing about you. I assumed once you found out you had been part of a murder investigation, and I deceived you, that you couldn't possibly overlook it."

"Again, you only deceived me about the parts that didn't matter. Unless you truly thought I was the Pureblood Murderer."

Harry shook his head. "No. I even told Ron I didn't think you were. But I had to treat Ophidian the same as any other suspect."

"Well, now that you know I want you and I know you want me, there's the small matter of coming out."

"It's not a small matter to me," Harry said.

"I know. That's why I'm not going to pressure you to come out. Yet."

Harry sighed with relief. He had, in fact, forgotten about the other people in the restaurant and what they might think of the pair, until Draco mentioned coming out again. Subconsciously, he leaned back in his chair, as if to distance himself.

Over pudding, Harry inquired about Draco's business. Draco told more stories of his travels in search of potion ingredients, some of which went hilariously wrong. And Harry told Draco some of the lesser known facts about cases he and Ron had worked on.

Spotting the new technology peeking out of Harry's sleeve, Draco asked about the portable floo.

Harry rolled up his jumper sleeve a bit. "Have you ever seen one before?"

Draco reached out, running his finger along the smooth metal side. "It's much smaller than I expected. No bigger than a watch. No wonder your voice sounded different through it."

"Are you thinking of getting one?"

"I don't know that I really need one. I have a floo in my shop and one in my flat."

"It's come in handy even simply walking around my flat while on a call," Harry told him. "I even went into the kitchen to make a lunch when Ron called one time. Can't do that on the regular floo network. Would you like to try it on?"

Draco shrugged. "All right."

Harry unclasped it from his wrist and slipped it over Draco's. He noticed that Draco's hand was soft, unlike his own. Without meaning to, he let his hand linger.

"How does that feel?" asked Harry.

"It feels . . . nice." Draco wasn't really looking at the portable at all.

When Harry realized what he was doing, he pulled his hand away.

"Anyway, I think the portables are going to be commonplace eventually."

A tiny bit disappointed, Draco took off the portable and gave it back.

"You're probably right," Draco nodded, then smirked. "It would have been much more comfortable to have had that one particular conversation in the comfort of my own bed, rather than down by the hearth."

Harry blushed. "I suppose. Although, _I_ didn't make it off the sofa."

"Of course, it would be even better in person."

"Yeah," Harry said softly.

"I guess I can't say for certain. But I'd like to find out. Eventually. When you're ready, to come out."

Harry watched him lick his lips, and he had a feeling Draco was trying very hard to lure him out of the closet right then and there.

"I'd like to find out all sorts of things about you, Harry. And let you discover all sorts of things about me."

While Harry sat and contemplated, Draco continued eating his pudding. He seemed to purposely lick the spoon in a suggestive manner.

"And I'd most especially like to find out where those places are that you like to be kissed."

Harry's throat grew dry, and he took a big gulp of butter beer.

Grinning, Draco warned Harry, "If you keep staring and blushing like that, people might think we're here doing more than simply having supper."

"If you don't stop eating your pudding like that, I'm going to have _something_ all right."

Draco laughed, which didn't help Harry's situation any. "You mean like this?"

He dipped his spoon into the creamy confection, then stuck his tongue out far to lick it off, rather than putting the spoon in his mouth. He turned the spoon and licked a stripe up the back as well.

"Fuck," Harry muttered. "Are you quite finished?"

"Oh, I'm just getting started."

In that instant, Harry forgot all about his fears and uncertainty about coming out publicly. In the back of his mind, he knew that had been Draco's plan, and he was falling for it. He was letting his dick think for him, and it wanted to get out of there.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out more galleons than was necessary to cover their meal, and tossed them on the table. He pulled Draco out of the booth by his hand, barely giving the man a second to grab his jacket.

As they walked toward the front door, past the hostess, Harry called, "Payment is on the table."

She gasped slightly as she caught sight of their classed hands.

"Come again, Mr. Potter," she smiled.

"Oh, I _plan_ to," he grinned.


	7. Chapter 7

The light from the blazing fire danced across Draco's features as he hovered over Harry on the sofa. As soon as they stepped foot out of The Three Broomsticks, Harry apparated them to his flat. They began kissing immediately and hadn't stopped until Harry was uncomfortably cramped in his trousers.

"I want you to undress me," Harry commanded.

First Draco popped the button on Harry's trousers, then slowly pulled the zipper down. The bulge underneath was obvious and spilled out as the fabric pulled away. Harry lifted his hips in order to let Draco pull the trousers off. He caught his breath a bit when Draco pulled off his pants as well, leaving him exposed completely.

When the jumper came off, Harry was nude, except for his socks. Somehow, Draco made even that mundane task an erotic act. After the socks were gone, Draco reached out to touch Harry's chest, but Harry grabbed his hand.

"I didn't say you could touch yet."

Draco laughed. "You _are_ bossy. What should I do then?"

"Take off your clothes and I'll show you where I like to be kissed. Then you can kiss me there."

While Draco undressed, Harry lay on the sofa watching him. Neither of them were at all shy about ogling the other.

"Ophidian was certainly an appropriate name," Harry observed. His mouth watered at the sight of his rosy pink cock and low hanging bollocks, inviting a pair of lips to suck on them.

Harry sat up and did just that. Draco's fingers ran through his hair while he took Draco's length into his mouth, pulling up, then going down.

"I thought I was supposed to be kissing you somewhere," Draco breathed. "Not that I'm complaining about this."

When Harry's movements proved to be too effective, Draco gently pulled him off.

"I don't want to cum yet. I want to touch you. I want to make you feel good. Where do you want to be kissed?"

Harry lay back down and pointed to the soft spot where his neck and shoulder met. "There." He pointed to a nipple. "And there."

He picked up the small bottle of oil from the side table that he had placed earlier, and handed it to Draco. They both knew what Harry wanted him to do with it.

Draco started with the neck, kissing, licking and biting in a way that Harry was sure would leave marks. Draco was marking him as his own, and Harry liked it. Moving downward, Draco gave the same treatment to one nipple, then the other, all the while slipping his oily fingers one at a time in Harry's arse. He aroused Harry so strongly that Harry thought he might cum too soon.

"One more place," Harry said. He was nearly out of breath from panting so hard. He needed Draco's fingers out and his cock in. Immediately.

Harry turned over, getting on his hands and knees. He pointed to the back of his neck. "There. Kiss me there."

Understanding the implication of Harry's instructions, Draco held his cock to Harry's opening. He glided smoothly inside Harry's eager body, leaning forward to comply with Harry's request.

"Harry," Draco whispered before leaving a mark there as well.

Less than a dozen thrusts in, Harry gasped. "Fuck. I'm cumming."

Draco didn't stop. Instead, he pounded harder and faster, hoping to cum as quickly. By the time Harry had recovered from his orgasm, Draco was close. Harry spurred him on.

"Yes, Draco."

Harry wasn't in much of a position help. Perhaps if he was facing Draco, he could have tweaked his nipples or played with his arse. But all he could do was use his words.

"Fuck me hard, Draco. Cum inside me. Harder."

"Shit. Shit, yes." Draco cried out loudly as he clung tightly to Harry's body, his cock pulsing inside of him. He stilled, holding Harry's body tightly against his own.

Slowly, Draco released his hold on Harry. "Fuck, that felt good."

Before his cock softened, he pulled out, cum spilling with it. Along with that, Harry's cum was drying in stripes on the cushions.

"I'm afraid we've made a mess of your sofa."

"I don't care," Harry chuckled. "We'll just go to my room then."

He hopped off the sofa, found his wand, and gave the mess a clean up spell. He took Draco's hand and tried to drag him down the hall to his bedroom.

"Wait," Draco stopped him. "I think I'd better go."

Harry looked down at their clasped hands, his thumb caressing Draco's. "What if I want you to stay?" He asked shyly.

"Are you serious about this? About us?"

"Absolutely," Harry looked up.

"Then it will keep 'til tomorrow." Draco caressed Harry's cheek with his free hand. "But if it doesn't, I had a lovely time tonight."

"Why wouldn't it?" questioned Harry.

"I'm not saying it won't. I'm just giving you time to think about it. You were very reluctant to come out. And, well, now that you've taken that first step, you need to figure out what you really want."

"I want you."

Draco smiled. "That's good. But we don't have to do everything at once. We should take it slowly."

Harry couldn't hide the disappointment on his face. Draco was right, though. Harry'd never been in this position before. He'd never had strong feelings for anyone he'd had sex with. Strong attraction, yes. But never someone he wanted to spend time with.

Harry nodded. "All right. I suppose you're right. I'd like to see you tomorrow though."

Laughing, Draco answered, "I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

Slowly, they dressed. Harry offered a nightcap, which Draco declined. When Harry was out of delay tactics, Draco flooed home.

Five seconds later, Harry was already missing his company.

oOo

Harry woke early Sunday morning. He couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up so disappointed to be alone. Normally, after a one off, he'd be relieved to be by himself. No awkward small talk necessary. No embarrassing nakedness in front of a virtual stranger. No having to face his regret first thing in the morning.

He'd had plenty of regrets. Thankfully, he never repeated any of them.

He sighed. There wasn't a shred of regret about the night before. Except perhaps letting Draco go home.

Glancing at his clock, he wondered if half-seven on a Sunday morning was too early to owl. He decided it was. To kill time, he showered, dressed, made a simple breakfast, and read some of the Prophet.

Miracle of miracles, he didn't appear on the front page. Well, his name did, but only in regards to the Pureblood Murders. Shacklebolt had given an interview on Saturday saying that they had a suspect in custody. Harry, and Aurors Davis, Peters and O'Neil had all been given credit for apprehending the culprit.

Harry was all right with that. He couldn't have done it without the other three, after all. Draco's name wasn't mentioned, as either a witness or a victim. His privacy was still intact. Eventually, though, when the trial began, Draco's name would be on the witness list and someone would make it public.

After reading the article on the Pureblood Murders, Harry again checked the time. Just a bit after nine. Late enough for him to send an owl, he determined. He scribbled a note to Draco inviting him to lunch, or to his flat, or a walk along the Thames. Anything. Knowing it probably sounded desperate, Harry sent it anyway.

Roughly half an hour later, Harry's portable signaled a call coming in.

"Hello?"

"Harry? It's Draco."

"Hi." Harry couldn't keep the grin out of his voice. "You got my note?"

"Yes. Why didn't you simply call?"

"I thought it might be too early for that."

"I'm usually an early riser," Draco assured him. "So, which of those things do you want to do today?"

"Everything," replied Harry, then felt foolish for the desperation he heard in his own voice.

"Everything, hmmm? We may be able to fit it all in."

"Really?"

"Certainly. We could take a walk along the river, then lunch out."

"Out?" Harry hesitated. He felt he'd dodged a bullet the night before, when nobody reported seeing him take Draco by the hand out of the restaurant.

Draco chuckled. "We've already been out once. Did you think that was the only time we'd be seen in public together?"

"Well, no, but–

"But nothing. Let's go for a nice walk, then find a place nearby for lunch."

Harry liked that idea. Perhaps if they were out in the Muggle world, no one would recognize them.

"All right."

"Brilliant. I'll meet you at the Peace Pagoda in Battersea Park. Do you know where that is?"

"Sure."

"Say, in fifteen minutes? Oh, and wear your red scarf."

"What?"

"See you in a bit." Draco ended the call, leaving Harry to wonder what Draco was up to.

oOo

Complying with the request, Harry waited on the steps of the pagoda for a few minutes, then walked around the structure to see if perhaps Draco was waiting on the other side. When he came around full circle with no sighting, he continued to wait on the same set of steps facing the Thames.

He was actually grateful for Draco's suggestion of the scarf as it was getting windy. He wished Draco also had a portable floo so he call to find out what was keeping him.

Then he glanced over at the railing along the river. A man with a head of light blond hair leaned against the railing, looking out across the water. Draco had his back to Harry, but in his hand he carried a white rose.

Butterflies suddenly churned in Harry stomach. Draco was trying to recreate the moment of discovery for Ophidian and Snake Charmer.

Harry walked up behind his new lover, then stood next to him.

"Lovely day," he said without looking at Draco.

"A bit windy though. It's a good day for that scarf." He turned to Harry and held out the rose. "I'm Ophidian."

Harry smirked. "Snake Charmer," he replied, reaching for the rose.

"Charmed. Thoroughly. Shall we walk?"

Like a true gentleman, Draco held out his elbow for Harry to take. Harry wasn't sure how long they were going to play the game, pretending they were meeting for the first time and not know their true identities. He glanced around before quietly slipping his gloved hand around Draco's arm.

Draco made small talk as they walked along the river, which was easy for him. It was one of the reasons customers and ingredient distributors liked him. By the time they had walked for half an hour, the pair learned each other's favorite colour, books, places to visit and last meal if sentenced to death.

"So, how long are we going to do this?" Harry asked.

"Do what?"

"Pretend we don't know each other."

"Pretend? I really didn't know your favorite colour, or your taste in books," Draco replied.

"But this isn't what would have happened if we had met at The Three Broomsticks as planned."

"You're right. You may have simply walked out when you saw it was me. But if you stayed, I wouldn't have been pretending not to know you, because you would have been wearing a Glamour."

Harry frowned. "I'm not certain what I would have done. I suppose I would have stayed, pretending to be Ted while I tried to figure out if you were the Pureblood Murderer."

"Things would have turned out very differently if I hadn't been poisoned. I imagine your attitude toward me would have changed. Oh, you'd have made an effort to be charming, but the chemistry would have been gone. I would have wondered what about me Ted didn't like. You, hopefully, would have decided I was not your suspect, and left, never again to bother contacting me. That would have been the end of it."

Harry wasn't sure he could refute that. It very well could have gone exactly the way Draco described. But he truly didn't think so.

"I had considered the possibility that you were my Ophidian for a while before you confirmed it. Honestly, I was torn. I didn't think you'd be remotely interested in me. And I wasn't sure I could forget the bad blood between us."

Draco stopped walking, forcing to Harry to stop as well. He opened his mouth to speak as he extricated his arm from Harry's.

"I'm not finished," Harry said. "I decided I didn't care. What I mean is, I wasn't going to let it deter me. Whoever Ophidian turned out to be, I was already starting to fall for him. He was witty, charming, sexy and he made me feel . . . like I've never felt before. The fact that he was you didn't change that. I'd like to think that even if we had met at The Three Broomsticks that night, I could still be here with you. So, we can stop pretending."

Draco smiled. "You're wrong, you know."

Harry frowned.

"You're actually very competent at big talk. And I think I've fallen a little further under your spell for it." He leaned forward, but only part way.

Harry met him the rest of the way, planting a kiss on Draco's lips.

"Be careful," Draco whispered. "Someone might see us."

"Nobody cares in the Muggle world. And right now, neither do I."

"Good. Now, why don't head into the park to see the zoo. I think it's about feeding time for the meerkats."

Draco took Harry's hand, leading him into the park toward the children's zoo.

oOo

After spending time looking at the animals, the pair discreetly apparated to a quaint restaurant on Queenstown Road. While they dined on pork belly with all the trimmings, Draco continued to lead the conversation. They flirted shamelessly all through it. And Harry was pleased to notice that not many people gave them a second glance.

He was also relieved that there were few instances of awkward silence. But Draco didn't appear uncomfortable during them. He seemed perfectly at ease around Harry, though Harry still felt a bundle of nerves. It may have had something to do with his mind constantly wandering back to the night before when Draco's cock was far up his arse.

"You're blushing," Draco smirked.

"What? Oh." It only deepened Harry's colour.

"I'd love to know what you were thinking about."

Harry chuckled. "I think you could probably guess."

When Draco laughed, Harry's already tingling cock twitched.

"Should we have pudding here, or are you too full?" Draco asked, patting his mouth with his napkin.

"I'm a bit full."

"Are you certain? They have framboisier which sounds fabulous."

"No, I couldn't," Harry held up his hands. "Perhaps something sweet later."

Draco smiled. "What do you want to do now? Or are you ready to call it a day?"

"You mean, end the date?"

"We've spent the past three hours together. Aren't you getting tired of me?"

Harry shook his head.

"All right. Then what would you like to do?" Draco smirked as though he knew exactly what Harry's answer would be.

Taking his time, Harry thought about all the things he would like to do with Draco. He bit his lip.

"Well, I think I'd really like for you to come to my flat."

Draco grinned.

"And maybe we could sit by the fire. Listen to the Wireless Network. Talk. We could swing by Honeydukes for some sweets first."

Draco's smiled faltered. "Is that _really_ what you'd like to do?"

Harry nodded. "Would you like to?" He sensed Draco's hesitation.

"I would. I–I just thought . . ."

"Last night you asked me if I was serious about you and me. I said yes, and I meant it. I wasn't talking only about sex." He smiled. "Although, that part is good too."

"It was great." Draco paused. "Did you say you wanted to go to Honeydukes? With me?"

"Like you said, we've already been seen together at The Three Broomsticks," Harry reasoned. "It wasn't even in the papers. I'm not naïve enough to think it won't be eventually. But, I think I might be ready for that."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Draco held his hand up to get the bill from their waitress.

Harry insisted on paying since he invited the other man. Draco offered to pick up the sweets.

Honeydukes was busy as usual on a Sunday afternoon, filled mostly with children and their doting parents. A few people acknowledged Harry with a nod or a smile, but in general, nobody paid him any mind. Long forgotten by the public, Draco was able to move about the shop as anonymously as anyone else. He chose some chocoballs, licorice wands and pink coconut ice. Harry, also wandering around, chose sugar quills, cauldron cakes and treacle fudge. Catching one another's eye, they met up near the cashier.

"I think I picked too many things," Harry said.

"Nonsense. Save some for later."

Harry laughed. "I feel like a kid again being in here. Ron and I used to buy so many sweets then eat it all in one go. Got sick a couple of times, so it sort of turned me off them for a while. But I haven't had treacle fudge in ages."

"Here, let me have your goodies, so I can take them to the counter," Draco offered.

"You don't have to."

"I already said I would. Give them here."

As Harry transferred his items to Draco's hands, they giggled. Several of Harry's sugar quills nearly fell, if not for the quick reflexes of an Auror. Draco attempted to help but only ended up pushing his body against Harry's, trapping one of the confections.

"Harry?" a voice tentatively called.

He tore his gaze away from Draco to find Ginny standing there gawking. He quickly stepped back, leaving the sugar quill to fall and shatter.

"Oh, hi Ginny."

Looking between the exes, Draco excused himself. "I'll go get another one."

Ginny's mouth was still hanging wide as she watched Malfoy walk away.

"What's going on? You're shopping for sweets with . . . Draco Malfoy?" She questioned incredulously.

"It's sort of a long story. But . . . yes."

"Why?"

It was a reasonable question.

"Well, like I said, it's a long story. We had lunch in London but we were too full for pudding, so we came here for–

"No, Harry. I don't mean why are you in Honeydukes. Why are you with him _at_ _all_?"

"We're . . . friends," he fibbed. Technically, it was true. They had become friends. She didn't necessarily need to know it was more than that. "Draco was a witness in a case I was working on, and we got to know each other a little better."

He flushed, giving away more than he meant to. It didn't help that Draco walked up to them with his purchases in a bag and subtly placed his hand on the small of Harry's back.

"All set," he said. "Ready to go?"

"You're going somewhere else with him? Ginny asked.

Harry could only stare. His mind couldn't think up a lie, and he certainly didn't want to tell her the truth.

"Harry, what is going on?" she demanded.

Slight pressure from Draco's hand brought him to.

"I can't tell you here, Harry said. "Come with me."

He took Ginny's hand and led her out of the shop. Glancing back at Draco, he hoped his lover would understand the need for privacy.

They stopped around the corner of the building where few people were milling about.

"Well?" Ginny put her hands on her hips. "Is this some sort of secret operation? Are you pretending to befriend him so you can get information out of him? What did he do?"

"Nothing Ginny. I told you, he's a witness. And we've become friends."

"Friends who touch each other so familiarly?"

He looked away, unable to look her in the eye as he tried to lie.

"You misunderstood. We weren't doing anything."

"Harry . . ." she sighed. "I'm still your friend too, aren't I? I can see that you're nervous or anxious or something. Is he somehow forcing you to do something you don't want to do?"

Harry closed his eyes. "No, Gin. You are."

"What? Me?" Beyond Harry, she could see Malfoy peering around the corner at them. The look of concern on his face appeared genuine. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Harry, please talk to me," she begged.

Plucking up his courage, Harry opened his eyes, looking directly into hers as he made his confession. "Draco and I are not just friends. We're . . . lovers. I–I'm gay, Ginny. I'm sorry I never told you before."

She blinked a few times, then looked past Harry again at a curious Malfoy. "You're . . . gay? Does Ron know?"

"Yes. He and Hermione have known for years. I asked them not to say anything."

"I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Just accept it."

"Oh, Harry, did you think I wouldn't?"

He shrugged a shoulder.

She gave a small smile. "Well, that explains how you were able to be such a gentleman while we dated. Why, though? Why date a girl if you don't like them?"

"I didn't want to be any more different than I already was. I wanted to be like everybody else in _some_ way. And I did like you. I _do_ like you, very much. Just not the way a good boyfriend should. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Not for that." She glanced behind Harry again. "But, Malfoy?"

"I know," he chuckled. "I never would have thought. He's matured. So have I. And he's the first man I've been willing to come out for. I'd appreciate if you didn't say anything to anybody, though. I know it'll become news eventually. I think I'll be ready for it. I just hate being in the papers."

"Speaking of which, I saw that you had a hand in solving the Pureblood Murders." She gasped. "Is that the case you were talking about? Malfoy is a witness?"

Harry nodded. "Please don't say anything about that yet, either. Until it goes before the Wizengamot, I'd rather not let Draco's name be attached to the case. Reporters will hound him for information."

"All right," she agreed.

Harry turned around to see what Ginny kept looking at and noticed Draco lurking about. He waved for him to join them. Draco approached cautiously, knowing that Ginny was a person whose opinion Harry respected.

"Miss Weasley," he bowed his head slightly.

She glanced at Harry, unsure how to address Draco. What she usually called him didn't seem appropriate. She opted to be equally formal as him

"Mr. Malfoy."

He appeared annoyed at the greeting but said nothing.

"I've told Ginny about us," Harry smiled.

"It's a start," replied Draco. Again, he placed his hand on Harry's back. But this time, it slid across to the other side of his waist. There was no mistaking the gesture.

"Well, I guess I should let you go," Ginny said, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"We should get together soon," Harry suggested. "It's been too long."

She nodded, turned and walked along the cobblestone path away from them.

"Don't think I didn't know what you were doing," Harry smirked.

"Hmm?"

"Ginny's no threat to you. We only dated for a little while. And, obviously, my heart wasn't in it."

"What about other men? It's only fair to warn you I'm the jealous type."

"I don't think we have to worry about running into any of _them_. Come on, I want to try some of that treacle fudge."

Harry looped his arm around Draco's and disapparated them back to his flat.

oOo


	8. Chapter 8

*** I can't believe it's been almost five months since I posted last. During that time, there was an illness in the family, so I kind of got sidetracked. Everything is better now, though. I have this chapter and at least one more, possibly two on the way. And I promise I won't take months to finish it. Thanks to those sticking with it.**

 **Everyone seems in agreement that my Ginny handled the situation well. I just don't like when she's a total bitch for no reason. Thank you for all the reviews and faves!**

 **Refresher in case you don't feel like re-reading the last chapter : Harry and Draco finally got to shag (just the way Harry described earlier in the story) but Draco didn't stay over. The next morning, they met in a Muggle park/zoo and had lunch in a Muggle restaurant. Then they went to Honeydukes, where they ran into Ginny, who was hesitant, but accepted Harry and his relationship with Draco.**

 **This chapter starts right after they left Honeydukes and went to Harry's flat. . .**

* * *

"I haven't heard Hobgoblins on the Wireless in years," Harry commented as he sat on the sofa with Draco.

"An oldie, but goodie?"

"An oldie, yes," Harry laughed. "Not so sure about goodie. Which bands are your favorites?"

"Mm, Weird Sisters," Draco said.

" _Everybody_ loves the Weird Sisters. Who else?"

"I don't know. Spellbound?"

Harry rose an eyebrow. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Well, who do you like?"

"Oh, I love Rhythmic Runes. And The Shadow Men."

" _Working for Scale_ was one of my favorite albums," Draco admitted.

"You like a _Muggle_ band?" Harry mock-gasped. "Is that why you didn't want to tell me which bands were your favorites?"

Smirking, Draco replied, "Caught me. I should have known you wouldn't care. Most Purebloods look down on all things Muggle."

"I was raised Muggle."

"I know."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"I've learned there are things more important than blood status."

"Such as?"

Draco slowly looked Harry up and down as he sat on the couch. "Just about everything. But, in particular, _this_." He leaned forward, kissing Harry softly on the lips.

When he pulled back, Harry tugged him forward again, kissing him passionately. While they snogged to the smooth sounds of Celestina Warbeck, Harry melted into Draco. Slowly, they sank down with Harry ending up on the bottom. He wrapped his legs around Draco's waist, pulling him closer.

"I want you to fuck me," Harry whispered.

"Harry . . ."

Harry pulled back, though he didn't have much room. "That's not quite the way I imagined you saying my name. What's wrong?"

"Not a thing," Draco answered.

"But you don't want to fuck."

Draco smiled. "I do. But, today has been . . . more than I expected."

Harry's brow furrowed. "What were you expecting?"

"I _was_ expecting to have a nice time, come back here, shag, and go home."

"Well, we're almost there," Harry chuckled.

"Yeah. Except that a nice time and a shag isn't enough anymore." He sighed. "You came out to someone today, for me. Someone important to you. And even though the situation sort of forced your hand, you did it willingly. And I'm realizing that when you said you were serious about this thing between us, you really meant it." Again, Draco found himself putting the breaks on their fast-moving relationship.

Harry nodded. "But I didn't regret telling Ginny," he said. "I had a wonderful time with you today."

"I did as well. Up 'til now, it was sort of a game. One we started as Ophidian and Snake Charmer. You were lewd and naïve all at once. And even though I thought it was an act, I liked it. But now I see that it's not an act. You are probably the most honest person I know." Draco chuckled. "I suppose that doesn't mean much, considering the people I know. Anyway, I can't remember the last time I spent a day with a man that didn't all lead into sex."

Harry's brow furrowed. He wasn't sure exactly what Draco was trying to say. "So . . ."

"So, I think this should be one of those days. A way to show that I'm serious about this as well."

"But, we've already had sex," Harry laughed. "And it was fairly lewd."

"Yes," Draco nodded. "It was. Truthfully, I thought last night might have just scratched an itch for you. And with the tension between us finally burst, I thought you would change your mind about getting together with me."

"Is that why you didn't want to stay?"

"Nothing is worse than waking up next to your latest regret. I didn't want to put you in that position."

"But I don't regret it. And I won't regret a repeat."

Draco smiled. "I wouldn't either. But how about you humor me, though? Let's see how we do without the promise of shagging at the end of the day. Let's just get to know one another."

"Maybe you're right," Harry agreed. "Actually, it would probably be better if no one else found out about us until after the trial. It wouldn't do for any of the members to think that I influenced your testimony in any way."

"But Shacklebolt knew what was going on didn't he? He was there when I identified Alley Cat."

"Yes. I'm just saying as a precaution."

"When will I see you again?"

Harry sighed. "I've got a lot of catching up to do because of this case. Probably not until next weekend."

Draco was beginning to regret turning down the sex. But it would be worth it to find out if he and Harry were truly compatible, or if it was only physical.

"We both have work in the morning. Maybe I should be going."

"All right. I don't suppose a portable floo call later would be appropriate," Harry blushed.

"I think it would defeat the purpose." Draco kissed Harry's cheek. "But I admit I'll be thinking about what I turned down."

"Can I floo call you tomorrow? A regular call, I mean."

"I'd like that."

Before he changed his mind, Draco left Harry's flat. Even though they didn't shag, as he expected and hoped, he was still satisfied by the day's events.

And he looked forward to their future interactions.

oOo

Two weeks later, Harry showed up to work early. He wanted to get his paperwork in order before heading down to the trial. He and the other Aurors had spent most of the previous weeks organizing evidence and writing formal accounts of the case's events.

Alley Cat, also known as Kirk Townsend, had maintained his innocence in the time since his arrest, forcing the Wizengamot to hold a formal hearing. Though a search of his home turned up ingredients necessary to make the poisoned potion that killed five wizards and nearly killed Draco, a completed potion had not been found. That evidence was circumstantial.

Unfortunately for Townsend, he didn't realize the man he tried to seduce in the pub was Harry wearing a Glamour. However, Townsend's counsel tried to cast doubt on Draco's testimony due to the affects of the poison on his memory. Harry absolutely had to testify.

At nearly half-nine, Harry hurried to the Wizengamot's chambers. Draco was standing outside the door with Shacklebolt, ready to walk in.

"Sorry I'm late," Harry said, out of breath.

"It's all right. They haven't called me yet."

"I'll go inside," Shacklebolt said, "I've made one last offer of a plea bargain. Time to see if they've decided to take it." He nodded before opening the thick wooden door and disappearing behind it.

"He doesn't deserve a plea bargain," grumbled Harry.

"It's okay. As long as he doesn't go completely free."

"I'll see that he doesn't." Harry glanced around, then gave Draco a kiss. "Ive missed you."

"Me too." Draco smiled. "I can't wait for this to be over."

"Yes, I'd like this case to end so we can get on with our lives." Harry paused. "Speaking of which, it's Friday. Are you busy tonight?"

The corner of Draco's mouth rose. "I believe I might have a date."

"It had better be with me." Harry cupped his chin and kissed him again, with a bit more passion.

Suddenly, the door opened.

"Good news! They took the–" Shacklebolt cleared his throat.

Breaking away, Draco blushed while Harry gave the Minister a sheepish grin.

"Sorry sir. We were celebrating a bit prematurely."

"Well, I suppose a celebration is in order," Kingsley told him. "Townsend took the bargain once he found out you would be testifying against him. We had to disclose that you were undercover wearing a Glamour. The details of the case will, of course, become public now."

"What did he get for his admission of guilt?" Draco asked.

"No Dementor's kiss. No death penalty."

"And what about the Ministry? Did we get anything besides a guilty plea?" Harry questioned.

"He claims to have information on some Death Eaters still in hiding. Whether or not that's true remains to be seen. But after all young Mr. Malfoy has been through, not having a trial was worth the deal," Kingsley said.

"Thank you," Draco replied. "Why did he do it? Did he say?"

"He's a Muggle born. Comes from a very religious family. Apparently he had a police record in the Muggle world. He'd attacked several people, including homosexuals and members of other religions."

"Why?"

"Lashing out, I suppose?" Kingsley shrugged. "His own family turned their backs on him when he revealed himself as a wizard. He was persecuted by Death Eaters for his blood status. Unlucky fellow was captured by snatchers who tortured him. Somehow managed to escape, but the damage had been done, both physically and psychologically. He longed for revenge, but as many Death Eaters had already been killed or captured by Aurors themselves, he targeted _any_ Purebloods. In his disturbed mind, being a Pureblood homosexual was the worst offense anyone could commit."

"Then he isn't gay himself." Draco's brow furrowed. "But, he behaved as though he knew the culture well. I never would have suspected he was straight."

Harry awkwardly bit at his bottom lip. "Or, maybe he is gay and he hates himself for it because it goes against his family's beliefs. I know a thing or two about not being comfortable with who you are."

"You would never do what he did, Harry."

"No, of course not. But it makes sense to me."

"Well, either way, he won't be harming anyone else," Shacklebolt offered. "If you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend."

They watched the Minister walk down the hallway and turn the corner.

"I have some paper work to finish up," Harry said. "Plus, Ron and I have a new case we need to go over together. And I have a meeting at four. But then after that I'm yours."

Draco's mouth curled up at the corners. "I like the sound of that. I could pick up some takeaway and meet you at your flat around five or so."

"No. I want to have a proper date. You know, the sort where I pick you up and take out somewhere nice. We can dine by candle light and stroll along the Thames hand in hand."

"Are you certain you want to do that?"

"Yep. You're no longer in my charge. There's nothing to stop us from publicly seeing each other. I know I was reluctant before, but I'm really ready for this."

"All right. Then where should we go? Back to that cute little place we went on Sunday? I'm still dying to try their framboisier. It's a wonderful cake layered with raspberries and buttercream, then topped with almond paste."

"Perhaps another time. I was thinking about the new place that just opened in Diagon Alley, The Dragon's Head. I've heard good things."

Draco was surprised Harry had chosen such a high profile restaurant in busy Diagon Alley.

"Someone is sure to spot us," he said.

"I don't care." Harry took a step closer. "I'd be proud to be seen with you. Should I pick you up at your flat at five?"

"No. I think I'm going to the shop and get some potions made since it's early."

"Perfect. I'll meet you there and we can walk to the restaurant together."

They parted ways with another kiss and a promise of a lovely evening ahead of them.

oOo

Harry entered the office he shared with Ron with a spring in his step.

"Oi, mate, you're back awfully early."

"Yeah, Townsend copped a plea so the trial was scrapped."

"Blimey, he admitted to all those murders?"

"And Draco's poisoning."

"Right." Ron pursed his lips. "Speaking of Malfoy . . ."

Harry sat down at his desk, which was butted up against Ron's. He faced his partner and waited for the rest of the comment.

"So, you and he are . . ." Ron trailed off.

"Seeing each other? Yes. We have plans tonight."

"Oh."

"I thought you said you would support me if I decided I wanted to pursue him."

"I know." Ron cringed a little. "But that was when I didn't think you really would."

"Ron," Harry chastised.

"Sorry. I guess I thought he'd back out and that would be the end of it. Or you'd get together once and get it out of your system."

"Well, we've seen each other several times and . . ." Harry sighed. "Ron, this is going to be in my system for quite a while. The more time I spend with him, the more I _want_ to. We spoke on the floo every night this week and never ran out of things to say. I've never had that before."

Ron's brow furrowed, yet he remained quiet.

Harry continued, "I realize you hate the idea of Draco and me together, but I was hoping you'd try to keep an open mind."

"No." Ron answered absently, then shook his head. "I mean, yeah, I'll try. I'm just trying to understand something here. You and Malfoy spent your time . . . _talking_?"

"Yes Ron," Harry chuckled. "Don't you and Hermione talk?"

"Of course we do. But what on earth do you and Malfoy talk about?"

"Same things as everyone else, I suppose." Harry shrugged. "We talked about our jobs, a bit about the case, music, books, food. The future."

Ron blinked. "You think there's a future with Malfoy?"

"I don't know. I never had a boyfriend before."

Nearly choking on his drink, Ron sputtered out, "Boyfriend? You're calling him your boyfriend?"

"No." Harry glanced away feeling a bit self conscious. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Crikey, I thought you two were just shagging."

"Wait, so you're all right with us shagging. But you're _not_ all right with us _not_ shagging?"

Ron frowned. "You're not shagging?"

"We're sort of seeing where this leads. He wanted to see if it was simply a physical thing or if there's more to it. Although, we did shag once and it was magnificent." Harry blushed.

"Don't need to know, mate."

"No. Probably not."

"So the whole not shagging thing was his idea?" Ron asked. Harry nodded. "At least he's not looking for a one-off."

"Neither am I. Not any more." Harry looked at Ron for moment or two, seriously considering his next statement. Ron was his best friend. If he couldn't tell Ron, who could he tell? "I think I'm falling in love with him. In fact, I'm sure of it."

After a long silence, Ron said, "If he hurts you, you know I'm going to have to kill him, right?"

Harry smiled. Ron had his back after all.

oOo

Fifteen minutes before five o'clock, Harry was running into the office of Auror Headquarters to hand in his full account of the Kirk Townsend case. He still needed to get home, change his clothes and apparate to Diagon Alley. The last thing he wanted was to be late.

As he burst into the office, Conall Moffett laughed.

"What's your hurry Harry? Got a hot date?"

"Yes, actually," he replied, breathless for the second time from running that day. "Can you file this for me, please?"

"Sure thing," Conall said, holding out his hand. "Who's the lucky girl?"

"There isn't one," Harry called as he turned to leave. "Thanks!"

Before Moffett could figure out what he meant, Harry was in the lift on his way to level eight where he could use the floo network to get home to his flat. He had only five minutes to change if there was any hope of being on time.

Changing into a pair of snug navy trousers and a moss green jumper, Harry ran his hands through his hair with a bit of taming potion. He gave himself a once-over in the mirror then disapparated away.

As Harry approached Enchanted Elixirs, he began to get nervous.

"Pull yourself together, Potter," he berated himself. "You've walked into scarier situations."

Draco was in the process of locking the front door when he caught sight of Harry, giving a small wave. He was dressed in black trousers and a dark grey button down shirt with a short, stand up collar.

"Hi," Harry said awkwardly.

"There's still time to back out," Draco responded. "We can go to your flat, get a nice bottle of wine, listen to some music, and talk about all the Muggle things I don't understand."

"I don't want to back out." Harry was resolute. "I want to do this. I'm just a bit anxious."

They began to walk up Knockturn Alley. Not many people were out and about as most of the shops were closing. While they were walking, Harry tried to think of something to say.

"So, what sorts of Muggle things don't you understand?"

"Where do I begin?" Draco chuckled. "I've heard people talk about cinema. What is that?"

"Oh, cinema is like moving pictures, but longer, and with sound."

Draco raised his eyebrow skeptically.

"Well, it's more than that," Harry clarified. "It's like seeing your favorite book or story come to life. You've been to see plays, haven't you?"

"Of course. My parents loved the theatre. We used to go to one in Chudley. As a child, I thought it rather boring."

"I suppose some movies are boring too," Harry commented.

"Movies?"

"Just another word for the cinema."

"And have you been to see a _movie_?"

"Oh, yes. Hermione and I used to go all the time. Having both grown up in the Muggle world, we knew all about them. It took years to finally drag Ron to one. But when we did, he became obsessed. He even let Hermione buy a telly so they could watch at home."

"A telly? That's another Muggle invention I don't understand. Why would you want to waste your time looking at a box?"

Harry laughed. "Maybe you've never seen one turned on. It's similar to watching movies. I never got used to it myself. My aunt and uncle only allowed me to watch a little bit. Television and movies can be quite entertaining, or informative."

"Hm. Still sounds boring to me," Draco said. "I can think of much better ways to spend my time." He winked.

Before Harry knew it, they were standing at the front door of the Dragon's Head. He didn't have time to be nervous as they walked, he was so busy talking with Draco.

He opened the door to find that there were several people queuing in front of them.

"We could find someplace less crowded," Draco suggested.

"But I wanted to try their goulash. It's supposed to be top notch."

A few of the patrons began to take notice of Harry, nodding or tipping their hats. If they wondered why he was there with Draco, they didn't show it. When the hostess asked for his name for the wait list, she looked up and gasped.

"Oh, Mr. Potter. I'm sure I can squeeze you in somewhere."

"Please, I can wait the same as everyone else," he insisted.

"But I'm certain no one would mind if you scooted in ahead of them," the hostess said.

"I don't mind," a man in front said.

"Me neither. Take my spot."

"No, no. Really. We'll wait. It's no problem," Harry repeated.

Other patrons offered him their place in the queue, but Harry insisted that he wait his turn like anyone else.

Draco could see that Harry was becoming uncomfortable with all the attention and decided to take action. He pulled the hostess aside, speaking in a low voice.

"Harry would never ask for special accommodations but he's really had a stressful week. You can only imagine the difficult life of an Auror."

She nodded sympathetically.

"None of these fine patrons seem to mind if he gets pushed to the front of the queue. If you could just quietly seat us, Harry would feel much more at ease." He gave her a dazzling smile.

"Of course," she agreed.

Within a minute or two, the hostess whispered to Draco to follow her. He gently tugged at Harry's sleeve.

"But–" Harry tried to protest. Realizing it was futile, he followed Draco and the hostess to a table for two in a cozy back corner.

"What did you do?"

Draco merely shrugged. "I guess a spot just opened up. It really is quite nice in here," he said, changing the subject.

Taking the time to look around, Harry agreed. A few people nodded when he looked their way, but it was far less attention than he was getting in the front vestibule.

"I didn't realize how hungry I was," Draco commented as he perused the menu. "Shall we get a starter?"

Opening his own menu, a photo of steaming bean soup caused his stomach to rumble. He chuckled. "Me too. Those spinach and feta pies look good. What do you think?"

"Yeah. Or maybe the bacon wrapped scallops?"

Harry smiled. "That's right, you told me you can't resist scallops. All right then, we'll get those. We can try the pies next time."

Draco tried not to grin too widely at the thought of a next time. Harry must have been expecting the evening to turn out well.

A server came by with a bright smile and a pad, ready to take their order.

"Hello, I'm Eugenie. I'll be serving you tonight." She smiled at Draco then her mouth hung open at the sight of Harry. "Oh, Mr. Potter, is this your first time dining with us?"

"Uh, yes."

"Oh, my. I've never had a celebrity at my station before." The girl was beside herself.

Nights such as this were the reason Harry usually kept to himself, not going out much. And when he did, he journeyed out into the Muggle world of anonymity.

"Eugenie?" Draco got her attention. "Are you named after the princess?"

"Yes. My mum thought those little girls were so adorable, she decided to name me after one of them. I was almost Beatrice."

"A rose, by any other name . . ."

The girl cocked her head, not quite understanding.

"Would smell as sweet," Draco finished, taking her hand to kiss. "Pleased to meet you."

Eugenie seemed to have no idea what Draco was actually talking about, but she was charmed nonetheless.

She giggled. "Can I get you something to drink? A starter?"

"Butter beer please," Harry answered. "And an order of the bacon wrapped scallops."

"And you?" She turned back to Draco.

"I think I'd like a Pimm's iced tea. And could we also try the spinach and feta pies?"

"Sure thing, luv."

"Wait," Harry stopped her. "Can I change my drink to a Pimm's as well?"

"Be right back." Eugenie left to put in their order.

"What?" Draco asked when he caught Harry staring.

"You know Shakespeare?"

"That surprises you?"

"Well, frankly, yes. He was a Muggle," Harry pointed out. "I didn't think your parents would have allowed you to study anything Muggle."

"Not much my parents can do to stop me now." Draco leaned forward on his elbows. "I do what I want, including reading lovely sonnets and dating lovely men."

Harry blushed, certain that everyone could see it. "Speaking of dates, this is our third one."

"Don't you mean fourth? What about last weekend?"

"Hanging out in my flat eating pizza doesn't count as a date," Harry said. "You know, it's sort of Muggle tradition to have sex on the third date."

"Really? Didn't we use up our first time on the first date, though?" Draco teased.

"I don't think sex works like that," Harry chuckled. "It's a never-ending resource."

Eugenie was back with their drinks and a small basket of bread rolls.

"Here you go. Are you ready to order your main courses?"

Harry had forgotten to look at the menu, he had been so busy talking. But he remembered what he wanted to try.

"My I have the goulash?"

"Of course," she said perkily.

"What are the specials tonight, dear?" Draco asked.

"Oh, goodness, I forgot to tell you," Eugenie apologized. "Tonight we have pork pie with mash and a side salad, and Grilled South Coast sea bass on a bed of roasted vegetables."

"What do _you_ recommend?" he asked her.

"Hm. Well, the pork pies are delicious, but maybe a bit heavy. The sea bass has a wonderful crispy skin. And it comes with courgettes and aubergine, if you enjoy those."

"You've convinced me," Draco smiled. "I'll have the sea bass. Thank you."

Eugenie giggled and was on her way once more.

Harry and Draco spoke more about some of the Muggle inventions he'd heard about, but couldn't grasp their value. It was difficult for Draco to imagine having to live without any magic at all.

"The funny thing is," Harry was telling him, "that my portable floo is really quite primitive compared to Muggle cell phones. They can call each other the same as me, but they can take photos, videos and even see each other when talking."

Draco was impressed. "Perhaps you can take me to one of those movies sometime."

"I'd love to. How is your fish?"

"Excellent. And your goulash?"

"Filling. I don't think I'll have room for pudding. It was probably a mistake to get two starters," he chuckled. He pushed his bowl back to keep himself from eating too much.

Just then, Eugenie was back, carrying a plate with a small yellow sponge cake and a darker one with some sort of gooey topping.

"Compliments of the management," She said, grinning as she placed it in the middle of the table.

"Oh, no, we couldn't," Harry began.

"How thoughtful," Draco said. "Thank your manager for us. But I suspect you had more to do with this than he or she did." He winked.

Giggling again, she admitted, "Well, maybe a bit. Enjoy."

Draco picked up one of the two dessert forks and broke off a piece of the yellow one. "Mm, lemon. Come on Harry, I'm sure you have room for a little taste. After all, she went to the trouble of bringing it out for you."

"You know very well she did that because of you. You've been flirting shamelessly since we arrived."

"Does it bother you? I can stop."

"Strangely enough, I've actually enjoyed watching you pour on the charm. Now I see what Eddie Carmichael was talking about. I suspect you've been doing it here to keep the attention off me."

The corner of Draco's mouth rose. "Our server was about to fall all over herself gawking at you. I didn't want to feel left out."

Harry laughed. "Now that I believe." Without thinking, he reached across the table and put his hand over Draco's. "I appreciate the effort."

"Careful there, Harry. Eugenie might get jealous." Draco quickly glanced around to see if anyone noticed the touch. "Or anyone else."

Intertwining their fingers, Harry replied. "I don't care."

There was no mistaking what was on Harry's mind there in the candle lit corner as he gazed adoringly at Draco. Anyone who saw would know in an instant that they were on a date, and a rather serious one at that.

Without taking his hand away, Harry asked, "What's that other one?"

"Not sure. Caramel perhaps? Would you like to try it?"

Draco dipped the fork into the gooey sponge and held it up to Harry's mouth. Leaning forward, Harry opened his mouth and allowed Draco to feed him.

After he swallowed, he simply said, "Toffee."

"Bill."

"What?" Harry frowned.

"We need the bill. Right now."

Harry laughed and waved with his free hand to get Eugenie's attention.

When she approached, her smile faltered a bit, seeing their hands still clasped.

"I think we're ready for the bill," Harry said.

"Oh, of course." Her eyes never left their hands. She took a slip of parchment out of her apron pocket and placed it on the table. "Enjoy your evening." She sounded a little disappointed.

"I think I just broke her heart," Harry said after she walked away. "She may have been starstruck by me at first, but she sure fancied you."

Draco laughed. Harry's favorite sound.

Intending to pay for the evening, Draco tried to pull his hand away, but Harry held tight.

"You've done enough for me this evening. Let me take care of this." Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out enough money to cover the bill, plus a very generous tip for Eugenie.

Harry stood, pulling Draco up with him. Though he wanted nothing more than to kiss Draco just then, he resisted. The restaurant was a bit too public.

They weaved their way toward the front, thanked the hostess, who smiled when she saw them holding hands, and walked out into the night. Harry barely had time to catch his breath before bright flashes and purple smoke filled the air.

oOo


	9. Chapter 9

*** Hello all! Thank you to those who didn't give up on this.**

 **Antona45456, WitchRavenFox, & Leelansinsanity- you make me blush with your praise!**

 **Thank you to hidden shades, yukino76, sjrodgers23, ALIdaJUSTLIFE, cassy1994, littlesprout, and Lunacom for taking the time to review!**

* * *

oOo

Harry shielded his eyes from the flashes of several photographers as he and Draco left the Dragon's Head. Thinking quickly, Draco disapparated them away to his flat.

Blinking until his eyes no longer saw ghost flashes, Harry looked around.

"Where are we? Is this your place?"

"Yes. I didn't know where else to go. I wanted to get you out of there."

"You didn't need to," Harry said. "It's been a while since I've been ambushed like that, but it's hardly a new experience. You don't need to try and protect me all the time. I _am_ an Auror."

"But this is different," Draco said. "This is your private life."

"They've seen us together, and gotten photographs."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I don't care. I truly don't. I had the most wonderful time tonight. I'm not going to let the press or the public ruin it." Harry stepped closer. "And besides, they're not here. It's just the two of us."

Draco swallowed. "I'm beginning to regret proposing the no sex rule."

"Rules were meant to be broken," Harry whispered. He kissed Draco soundly until neither one could breathe.

"I couldn't agree more."

Draco led him by the hand to his bedroom just down the hall. He lit the candle sconces, setting the romantic scene. They were silent as they each slowly began to undress. Unlike the first time, when the remnants of Ophidian and Snake Charmer fulfilled a fantasy, Harry and Draco took their time. Neither one had a role to play. Neither one knew what was going to happen next.

Draco had finished first and lay on his bed watching Harry as the last of his clothing was removed. He crooked a finger, beckoning Harry to him.

Harry crawled onto the bed and hovered over Draco for a moment before kissing him hard and deep. They snogged while rutting their erections against one another.

In one swift movement, Draco reversed their positions and began to kiss down Harry's neck and shoulder. "So, how should we do this?"

"Why do I get to choose?"

"Because you're the bossy bottom," Draco laughed. Harry's cock twitched.

"All right." Harry rolled them over once again.

"This is so strange." Draco traced a finger along Harry's collarbone.

"Strange?"

"You don't think it's strange that we find ourselves here, together, nude? We nearly killed each other at times."

"Strange isn't the first word that comes to mind. I'd say more like . . . arousing." He gave Draco a small kiss and ground their cocks lightly against one another. "It probably should feel strange. But it doesn't. It feels _so_ good. Everything that happened before seems like a different lifetime. Almost as if it wasn't even us. I think this is the real us, the handsome potion shop owner and the Auror. Two ordinary wizards enjoying each other's company."

"Are you calling me ordinary?" Draco feigned insult.

"Extraordinarily ordinary."

"There's no such thing."

"Mm." Harry nuzzled his neck. "I could get used to this. I've never had a boyfriend," he said before he could stop himself. Obviously, he didn't learn from the first time he said it.

"Boyfriend? You want me to be your boyfriend?"

Harry remained silent.

"Ask me," Draco whispered.

Closing his eyes, Harry whispered back, "Will you? Will you be my boyfriend?"

"Open your eyes, Harry." He was grinning when Harry did. "Yes. But you haven't answered my question yet."

"I think I'd like to see your face when you cum this time." He rolled them back so he was once again under Draco's body. "Make love to me."

Draco quickly crawled across the bed, fetching lube from the night stand and a pillow. He placed the pillow under Harry's head and flipped open the tube to spread the lotion onto his fingers. While Harry held his legs wide, Draco lovingly circled his opening before putting in the first finger. Recalling Harry's earlier instructions, he bent over to scrape his teeth over a nipple. Harry writhed beneath him.

Once the second and third fingers had sufficiently prepared Harry, Draco added lube to his own cock. He looked down at Harry, peacefully waiting with his eyes closed. He didn't see Snake Charmer. He didn't see The Boy Who Lived. He saw Harry, the man he had been slowly getting to know for the past six weeks. The man he had been slowly falling for.

He pulled Harry's legs onto his shoulder and eased himself inside. Setting a leisurely pace, Draco watched Harry as he arched his back and moaned. Each steady thrust drew another moan from Harry's lips. He could watch him all night long.

"Draco," Harry whispered, opening his eyes. "I . . ." He whimpered before he could get any more out.

Draco's heart ached at how beautiful Harry was, gazing up at him with trust in his eyes. He leaned forward to kiss him, bringing Harry's knees to his chest. Harry's arms drew around him, throwing his head back into the pillow, his eyes drifting shut again.

"Yes. Oh, that's good."

"Can I go a little faster?"

"Please."

Draco's hips picked up speed and Harry gasped. "Don't stop. Don't stop."

"Look at me, Harry."

Harry's brilliant green eyes flew open at the same time he cried out. Draco felt the warm stickiness between them and he wanted to cum so badly too. He was nearly there.

A bit more aware after coming down from his own orgasm, Harry smiled at the sweaty, frantic mess Draco had become. His skin was flushed and his hair damp. Harry reached up to stroke his chest, giving both nipples a hard tweak.

"Fuck. Ah, fuck." Draco pushed hard into Harry letting out a rather unmanly sounding squeal. His cock pulsed over and over inside Harry. And Draco had a fleeting thought that his orgasm was never going to end.

Of course, it did. And when it was over, he looked down at Harry, who was still smiling at him. He smiled back.

"That was the most amazing orgasm of my life," Draco told him. He hadn't moved from his spot. His cock was slowly deflating but still inside Harry.

Harry laughed. "How can you possibly remember all of your orgasms?"

"I don't."

"Then how do you know that one was the best?"

"Because . . . because it's the first one I've had with a man I . . . love."

For a moment, Harry forgot to breathe.

"I won't make you ask me," Draco said. "Yes. I love you."

Harry pulled him closer, pressing his face into the crook of Draco's neck.

"Harry? Are you all right?"

"Yes," he mumbled into Draco's skin.

"Look at me. Have I upset you?"

Gasping, Harry said, "No. Of course not. That's the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Surely you've heard it before."

"Yes. From friends and family. But never in a romantic sense. That is how you meant it, isn't it?"

Draco was finding it easier and easier to say. "Yes, Harry. I meant that I'm in love you. I'm completely besotted and under your spell."

Feeling lighter and happier than he ever had, Draco tried to pull away in order to clean up the sizable mess they had made. But Harry wouldn't let go.

"Wait. I want to say something."

"You don't have to. Just because I said I love you doesn't mean you have to say it too."

"What if I want to? I know it seems like I'm simply saying it out of obligation, but that's not what it is."

"I don't want you to feel pressured."

"I don't. I held back because, well, I thought you might think it was too soon. I nearly said it while we were making love."

Draco bit his bottom lip. Harry still hadn't said the actual words.

"Said what?" He forced the issue.

"I love you, Draco. I've never felt this way about anyone before."

They both giggled shyly and sealed their declarations with a kiss.

"We'd better clean up before we're permanently stuck together," Draco suggested.

"I could think of worse things."

oOo

Opening his eyes to find Harry in his arms, Draco stretched and yawned. "Morning." He snuggled closer, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist.

"It's morning," Harry stated the obvious.

"Yes."

"You don't have to be at the shop?"

Yawning again, Draco replied, "I owled Eddie last night asking if he wouldn't mind covering for me this morning."

"Oh. Okay."

After a lengthy silence, Draco lifted his head.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain?" Draco rolled away onto his back. "I thought you wanted to stay."

"I did. I do. I mean, I didn't change my mind," stammered Harry. "I've never stayed over with anyone. I'm not sure what to do."

"You've never spent the night with _anyone_?"

"Nope."

Draco grinned. "I'm the first?"

Harry laughed. "In more ways than you could probably imagine."

"Ooh, like what?" He propped himself up on an elbow to listen.

Blushing, Harry began to Draco about his sordid history. "Well, I've only ever had sex in public loos or at some fellow's flat. Occasional in a hotel room. But I never stayed over. And I've never taken anyone home to mine. Most times, I didn't even see them twice."

"I recall calling you naïve once. I take it back. You're a whore," chuckled Draco.

Harry's face dropped. "I suppose I am."

"Merlin, I was only kidding." He lifted Harry's chin. "Go on, then. What else?"

"You're the first wizard."

"But I thought you were talking about screwing _men_."

"Yeah. Men. Muggles."

Draco's eyebrows rose. " _Only_ Muggles?"

Harry nodded. "I was . . . too afraid to come out in the wizarding world. Muggles don't care who I am, or that I like men."

"You're probably going to have to deal with that after last night. The hostess saw us holding hands. As did many of the dinner guests."

Sighing, Harry admitted, "I didn't really think that through. I'm sorry."

"If you think I'm upset by that, you're mistaken. I wanted to be seen with you, in case you've forgotten."

Harry smiled. "It's likely to be in the papers. I'm certain all of those photographers are going to be selling the pictures."

"Even better. I want everyone to know how lucky I am. How are you going to feel about that?"

"Nervous. Kingsley was supportive, but not everyone will be. I don't know how my fellow Aurors will feel. But I'm ready for it. I'm ready."

Draco rolled forward, scooping Harry up. "I'm proud of you."

"I think we should celebrate," suggested Harry. He unwrapped himself from Draco's embrace and scooted down the bed, burying his face in the soft hair of Draco's groin. "You smell so manly."

"You mean like dried spunk?"

"You can't get any more manly than that." Harry took Draco's semi-hard cock into his mouth.

Draco groaned. "Can I ask you something?"

Without breaking contact, Harry nodded.

"Do you . . . _only_ bottom?"

Harry's answer was interrupted by a call from his portable floo on the bedside table. He groaned but still reached out to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Harry, what are you doing today?"

"Uh, what time is it Ron?"

"About half-ten. You're not still in bed are you?"

Harry chuckled. "Well, I'm in _a_ bed."

"Oh."

"And I'm sort of in the middle of something." Harry looked at Draco who was now seductively stroking himself.

"Got it. Sorry." Ron paused. "But seriously, what are you doing later? Can we get together? It's important."

Distracted by Draco's obvious attempts to entice him, Harry replied, "Uh, sure. What did you have in mind?"

"How about lunch at the cafes? Say, twelve-ish?"

"Fine. I've got to go. Later." Harry quickly hung up at the sight of Draco fondling his own arse.

"Fuck, were you trying to make me cum while I was talking to Ron?"

"No, but it was fun trying," Draco grinned. He had the lube out, his knees drawn, and was poking a finger in and out of his arse.

"Were you serious? Do you want to bottom?"

"I want you to make love to me. I want to feel you inside me."

"All right. If you're sure that's what you want."

Draco nodded, handing Harry the lube.

oOo

Around ten after noon, Harry and Draco strolled through Diagon Alley together hand in hand. They noticed a fair amount of attention directed their way. While much of it was knowing smiles, there were still some looks of disapproval.

Harry rolled his eyes when a photographer for the Quibbler not so stealthily took their picture.

"You know," he said, "you might get a better picture if you simply ask."

"You would . . . just pose for me?" The man questioned. He was used to having to get his subjects on the sly.

"If Draco doesn't mind."

Draco shook his head.

The man took several shots of the pair smiling and waving. He realized it didn't seem nearly as scandalous if his victims weren't trying to hide. He thanked them anyway, and went on his way.

"Why did you so willingly let him take our picture, Harry?"

"Because if there a loads of pictures of us floating about, it won't seem like anything special."

"It'll be special to me."

They looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"When the hell did we get so sappy?" Draco asked.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "But I'm blaming you." Uncaring of his surroundings, he leaned in for a kiss.

"Holding hands is one thing. A kiss leaves no room for interpretation."

"I know." And Harry completed his move. "Let's find Ron. He sounded a bit anxious this morning. I hope everything is all right."

They rounded the corner to find Ron and Hermione sitting at a table under a red umbrella.

"Oi, Harry!" Ron called out and waved.

The pair slowly approached Harry's friends.

"I didn't know you were bringing him," Ron said.

"Is that a problem?"

Hermione looked from Ron to Draco, then to Harry. "Sit. It seems we have some catching up to do."

Harry and Draco did as they were told. Hermione folded her hands on the table in front of her.

"Well?"

"The short version? Draco and I are in love."

"Oh, jeez," Ron rolled his eyes. "You couldn't have maybe eased her into it? At least I've had time to process it."

"You knew?" Hermione questioned him.

"Well, Harry said he was falling for him. But I didn't know Malfoy returned the feelings."

Draco turned to Harry. "You told Weasley before you told me?"

"Uh, I . . . yeah, I suppose."

Rather than get angry, which is what Harry was afraid of, Draco pulled Harry's face to his and kissed him.

"So you really weren't simply saying it because I did? You really mean it."

"Of course I do. I wouldn't have said it otherwise."

"Ahem," Hermione drew their attention. "So, the photos in the papers aren't fakes?"

"No," Harry told her. "Draco and I went tout together last night. Someone must have tipped them off, as there were photographers waiting for us when we left the restaurant."

"I'm sorry," she said sympathetically.

"I'm not. And you shouldn't be either. You said you wanted me to find a man and I have." He paused. "Is that why you wanted to see me this morning?"

"Partly. I thought the pictures were manipulated. I wanted to tell you before you saw them for yourself."

"The other part is that Hermione's finally up the duff," Ron grinned.

"So I see you're not the only one that blurts out intimate information," Draco said to Harry.

"Aw, Ron, you ruined it," Hermione grumbled. "I was supposed to offer Harry a jam doughnut."

"Sorry, luv, I forgot. I'm just excited."

"Doughnuts?" asked Harry. "I'd love one. I'm starved."

Hermione took the box from the seat beside her and put it on the table. Harry lifted the lid. Under it was a note that read, _eat up, I don't want to be the only one with a big belly._

Harry chuckled. "You've given me quite a bit of credit thinking I would have figured that out." He picked up a doughnut, taking a huge bite, swallowing quickly, then popping the rest of it into his mouth. He reached for another one.

"Harry, didn't you eat anything today?" Hermione admonished.

"Oh," he blushed. "We were, um, a little busy this morning. Didn't have time to eat."

"Not food, at any rate," Draco added.

She gasped at Draco's comment, but giggled in spite of herself. "Well, help yourself Malfoy."

Ron looked at her expectantly.

"You may as well, Ron. I'm afraid doughnuts might be the most fun you'll have for the next eight months or so."

"Come on, Mione." Ron picked one up and handed it to her. "You're eating for two now."

The four of them ate in silence, save for the sound of licking sugar from their fingers.

"So, um, are we going to be all right here?" Harry asked. No one had addressed the fact that Harry was currently in love with his former enemy. "Because, I want you all in my life. And I don't know how that will work if you all refuse to get along."

Draco regarded Ron and Hermione. He hadn't given the pair of them much thought over the past several years. Inwardly, he was cringing at the memory of the way he had treated them in school. But if he and Harry could get past all of that and fall in love, then surely he could learn to like, or at least tolerate, the redhead and his bride.

"I'm willing to put aside our differences if they are."

"Of course, Harry. We'd do anything for you," Hermione chimed in.

Ron nodded, but said, "I meant what I said before though."

Harry decided to keep Ron's promise to kill Malfoy if he hurt Harry to himself.

"I'm just asking you all to try. You have more in common than you might think." Feeling pretty good about the whole situation, Harry felt more relaxed. "As good as those doughnuts were, I'm still hungry. Does anyone want something from the cafe?"

"Yeah, me too." Ron stood. "Can I bring you something Hermione?"

"Something plain would be nice. Perhaps some chicken broth and crackers? It's a bit chilly for May."

"Sure thing, luv."

Draco stood. "I could go for some chicken salad. I'll join you."

"No, stay," Harry suggested. "I'll get it for you. Lemonade?"

Trying not to show his panic at being left alone with Hermione, Draco simply nodded and sat back down. After Harry and Ron left, the pair of them glanced around awkwardly in silence. Hermione was the first to speak.

"I hope you meant what you said about putting aside our differences."

"Of course. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

"Are you implying that you always tell the truth?" she challenged.

"I . . ." He sighed. He didn't want to get into an argument within five minutes of promising Harry he would make an effort with his friends. "I have no reason to be dishonest. Continuing the bad blood between us wouldn't improve my relationship with Harry."'

"Yes, about that. I take it you were part of Harry's investigation into the Pureblood murders." "I was."

Loathe to admit she was curious about things Ron didn't or wouldn't tell her, she asked anyway, "How, exactly, did you and Harry . . . meet, for lack of a better term?"

Since the details of the case were no longer being kept secret, he had no reason not to tell her what she wanted to know. Besides embarrassment, that is.

"Harry posed as a member of an anonymous dating service. I saw his profile and contacted him. We hit it off immediately, not knowing each other's true identity."

"Yes, I know about the dating service. I helped Harry with some of the Pureblood terms and traditions he needed to know. What was your nickname? What happened when you realized who the other was? And why did you continue to date?"

"I used the pseudonym Ophidian."

"Ah, the snake," she smirked.

"For Slytherin, of course," he clarified. "We talked for a few weeks before finding out each other's identity. It wasn't until I was poisoned and Harry came to see me in hospital that I realized it was him. He found out when I told him my alias. But neither one of us let on."

"So, you both kept on pretending and carried on your anonymous correspondence?"

"I tried to but he wouldn't answer calls or messages from Ophidian after that. I reckoned I must have been right, and that once he found out it was me, he was no longer interested."

"So, you're saying, even though you thought Harry was your secret admirer, you still wanted to pursue him? Why?"

Draco smiled. "As one of his best friends, I should think you'd know the answer to that. He's utterly adorable. Confident and commanding publicly, yet awkward and shy in social situations. He kept me on my toes. He was interesting, intelligent, and thoughtful. Why wouldn't I want that? The fact that all of that came in the form of a powerful and attractive wizard was irresistible."

Hermione blushed slightly at his description of Harry. It was accurate as far as she could tell. But the hint of lust in Malfoy's eye was a bit disconcerting.

"I can tell that you're wondering why the hell Harry was still intent on pursuing me, though."

"It is a valid question, considering your past," she said.

"I don't have any answer for you. I ask myself that very same question continually. I'm just grateful that he was. I'm grateful he's given me a chance to erase his memory of the person I used to be."

They fell silent once again. Draco wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to convince Harry's friends that he isn't the same spoiled prat from childhood. He had to try.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry for many of the things I've done, including tormenting you and Weasley."

She looked up at him in surprise. Ron and Harry arrived back just then, leaving no time for her to give a response.

"Here you go, luv." Ron placed the bowl of piping hot soup in front of her. "I wasn't sure what sort of crackers you wanted so I brought some of each." He emptied the pocket of his hoodie onto the table. Five different packets of crackers and two bread rolls tumbled out.

"Thank you Ron." She smiled. "That was very thoughtful."

"Um, I stole Ron's idea," Harry said to Draco. "I didn't know if you wanted a sandwich or if you wanted to put your chicken salad on crackers." He emptied a similar display in front of Draco.

"Thank you." He patted Harry's thigh when he sat down.

"So what did you two talk about while we were gone?" Harry asked, dipping a spoon into his bean soup.

"Um." All Draco could remember was him waxing poetic about Harry's many wonderful qualities.

"About how we're all going to put our past behind us, for your sake, Harry," interrupted Hermione.

"Really? That's brilliant." Harry was happy to hear it. Unfortunately, he had been noticing lots of curious looks and whispers. As an Auror, he still remained a public figure. But he didn't mind so much. That was just his job. This was his personal life.

"You all right, Harry?" Draco leaned in. Harry nodded, but Draco was unconvinced. "Maybe two public outings in a row was too much."

"No. I'm not going to let some pictures in the paper scare me off." He looked around. "Or some stares from passersby."

"You have to admit, Harry," Ron said between bites of his banger, "this hasn't been nearly as bad as you imagined it would be."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know, it doesn't seem to be as big a deal as I made it out to be. You were right. I should have come out ages ago. Or simply not hidden who I am."

Hermione reached across the table and patted his hand. "The important thing is, you don't have to hide. And we're here to support you."

"I'm happy to have all of the people most important to me here."

Harry meant all of them but he was looking at Draco in particular.

"Happy to be counted among them," Draco said quietly.

They slowly fell into a lazy kiss, forgetting they were out in public. When the kiss threatened to become an all out snagging session, Ron coughed loudly.

"Oh, Sorry," Harry blushed. He took a spoonful of his soup. "You know, Draco has asked me to take him to the movies sometime. We could all go together."

"Yes," Ron replied immediately. "The new Star Wars movie just came out."

"Ugh." Hermione stuck out her tongue. "I already told you I don't want to see it."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Star Wars?"

"But Mione, it's the last movie of the trilogy. We _have_ to see it."

"Actually," Harry said, "That's probably not the ideal first movie for Draco to see."

"What is Star Wars?" Draco cocked his head.

"Oh, you don't know what you're missing," Ron got very excited. "You should come over and watch the first two movies. Then we can all go see the last one."

"You have a cinema in your home?" Draco was in disbelief.

"No," laughed Ron. "We have a Muggle DVD player and all sorts of films. I like the really scary ones where monsters and the like pop out. Hermione likes the mushy love stories. We have a few comedies too."

Without even realizing it, he had invited Draco to their home. Harry figured he only got carried away, talking about his new favorite pastime. But it was a step in the right direction. Since Harry didn't want to make too big a deal about it, he changed the subject.

"So, when is the baby due?"

"Not until the beginning of next year," Hermione told him. "We only found out this week. I'm not very far along."

"Wow, I still can't believe you two are going to be parents." Harry grinned. "You're going to be great parents."

"So will you someday," Hermione said.

Harry just shrugged.

Hermione pushed her bowl away from her. "Ugh."

"You all right, luv?" Ron doted.

"My stomach is a bit queasy. I'll be fine."

"Morning sickness?" asked Harry.

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "Except it seems to happen anytime but the morning."

"We have a morning sickness potion in the shop. I can get it for you if you like," offered Draco.

"Thank you, no," Hermione said. "I have a bottle at home that the healer at St. Mungo's gave me."

"It's no trouble. My shop is just 'round the corner."

"He shares a shop with Eddie Carmichael," Harry told them. "You remember him?"

"Oh, yes, actually. He was quite good at potions." Hermione put a finger to her lip.

Draco saw that she was considering his offer, now that she knew who was making the majority of the potions at Draco's shop. Before anyone could protest, he excused himself and disapparated away.

Ron scoffed. "What the bloody hell was that? He just left?"

"Ron, I'm pretty sure he went to fetch Mione a potion," Harry remarked. "I think he's really trying to make a good impression on the two of you."

"Yeah, well . . ." Ron still wasn't quite sure how he felt about the whole thing. "You're not gonna drink it, are you Hermione?"

"Why not? If Carmichael made it, I'm sure it's up to snuff."

"But maybe Malfoy made it."

Harry could sense her hesitation. He understood.

"Just accept it," Harry requested. "If you want to pour it out when you get home, neither of us will know. He's trying. And I don't want him to be discouraged."

Hermione took Harry's hand again. "If it keeps you looking as happy as you do right now, I'll do almost anything. Besides, Malfoy and I had somewhat of a heart to heart while the two of you were off getting lunch."

"Oh?" Ron was skeptical.

"He even apologized for his behavior at Hogwarts, towards Ron and me in particular. But Harry," she leaned a little closer, "I don't think he's looking only for _our_ approval. He seems a bit–how shall I put it–insecure as to your feelings for him."

"Insecure?" Harry chuckled. "That is not a word I would use to describe him."

"Perhaps not on the surface. But when questioned about it, he told me he has no idea what you see in him."

"He's not the only one," Ron muttered.

"Ron." She swatted his arm. "We're talking about someone Harry loves."

"Just kidding." He smiled sheepishly. He sighed, resigned. "I know exactly what Harry sees in him."

Raising an eyebrow, Hermione simply said, "Oh?"

"He let's him be himself. Not a war hero, not a celebrity. He's seen Harry at his best, but he's also seen him at his worst. And he still wants to be by his side." He gazed at his bride. "No matter how much he fucks up, she still manages to see the good in him. And makes him feel . . . like he's worthy."

"Are you talking about Draco or Hermione?" Harry smiled.

Ron blushed.

"Well of course you're worthy." Hermione pulled Ron closer and gave him a kiss. When she pulled away, though, she frowned. "But why wouldn't Harry feel worthy?"

"I'm starting to, Hermione," Harry said. "I didn't feel like I could live up to the legend of Harry Potter," he rolled his eyes. "But I don't really feel like I should have to anymore. Ron is right. Draco let's me be myself. My awkward, sometimes stupid, self."

In a whoosh of air, Draco appeared before them. In his hand he carried a small pouch.

"I brought some things that might help," he said as he placed them one by one on the table. "This one is for morning sickness. Unlike the St. Mungo's potion, this one contains ginger, peppermint, and a touch of dittany, but no belladonna. Eddie believe it is a much safer potion." He pulled out another small bottle. "This is a lotion for your belly. Recommended by Tiffany to keep the skin smooth and supple. And this one is a pain relief potion, which, I am assured by Eddie, is safe to take during pregnancy." He stood back to allow Hermione to look at the assortment.

Harry opened his mouth to thank him, then waited, hoping Hermione would take the lead.

She looked up at Draco to find an expression of satisfaction on his face. He seemed genuinely please to have helped her.

"Thank you very much. This is all quite helpful."

Ron reached into pocket for his wallet. "How much do we owe you?"

"Please, take it as a gift of congratulations."

"Oh, no, we couldn't," Hermione said.

"I insist. And if you're satisfied with them, I hope you'll consider Enchanted Elixirs for all your potion needs." Draco looked into their blank faces, and gave an embarrassed chuckle. "My apologies. Sometimes I fall into the sales pitch approach. But, do take them as a gift."

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the shop and relieve Eddie. He's done me a favor of coming in today. It was nice meeting, er, seeing you again." Draco held out his hand to Harry's friends.

For a moment, Harry's mind was carried back to another time Draco had held out his hand in friendship. Harry hadn't taken it back then. But he hoped his friends would be kinder.

Luckily, they had.

oOo


	10. Chapter 10

*** Getting down to the end. This chapter isn't as long as usual because I split it up into two. So, there will be one more after this. Then it's finished.**

 **Leelansinsanity- Wow, what a compliment. So glad to have helped with your writer's block, though I'm certain I did nothing to help. I also write non-fanfiction. Let me know if there is somewhere I can read your work. We have to support each other!**

 **mysticalgems- thanks for the incredibly enthusiastic review!I hope you like the last two chapters :)**

 **Thanks to hotflower901, WitchRavenFox, cassy1994, sjrodjers23, littlesprout, yukino76, KatieMarrie, moodysavage and for reading and reviewing. I appreciate you taking the time!**

* * *

Harry and Draco spent Saturday night, Sunday and most of Monday together, much of it in bed. Draco was able to convince Harry to go out for meals, however.

The ran into several photographers and reporters, who tried relentlessly to get an interview. Harry declined, telling them to write whatever they wished. Public reaction to the photos was mixed. Some were happy to see Harry 'settle down', while others suggested he could have made a better, female, choice. All in all, the wizarding world left him alone regarding his personal life as they had for the past few years.

Tuesday morning, he walked into his office to find Ron in a pleasant mood.

"You're awfully chipper, considering it's such a dreary day," Harry commented. "Enjoy your Spring Bank Holiday?"

"I might say the same to you," Ron raised his cup of tea in cheers.

"Yeah, well, we shagged all weekend long in every room of both our flats," Harry laughed.

"We only have one flat, but still . . ."

"Ron, you dirty buggar. You can't shag while Hermione has a bun in the oven." He paused. "Can you?"

"The healer said it was fine," Ron shrugged. "Besides, when she's not feeling sick at the stomach, Hermione's rather . . . you probably don't want to know."

"Probably best to keep our exploits to ourselves. But I'm glad you aren't stressed out anymore."

"And what about you? You know there have been several articles in the papers."

"I saw them," Harry said. "There isn't much to them, other than Draco and I have been seen out and about holding hands and kissing. Although, one article, guess _whose_ , was all about Draco's brush with the DeathEaters and questioning my judgement."

"Skeeter. That witch. Nobody believes half of what she writes, though." Ron waved his hand dismissively.

Crispin Davis poked his head into the office. "Harry, Kingsley wants to see us in his office. Now."

"Is this about the Townsend case? There isn't a problem, is there?" Harry asked.

"Don't know. Just that he wants to see you and me."

"All right."

Harry walked with Auror Davis down the hall toward the lifts, then got in to go up to Shacklebolt's office. Things were always uncomfortable in a lift, but Harry could practically feel the tension on his skin.

Davis cleared his throat. "So, um, I saw the photographs."

Harry wasn't certain how to respond. Crispin hadn't asked a question, simply made an observation.

"I guess, uh, that's why you were able to get that Townsend bloke."

Harry turned to him, eyebrows raised.

"You know, 'cause you're gay and I'm not."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Harry narrowed his eyes. "I got _that Townsend bloke_ because I'm a good Auror, not because I'm gay."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." Davis splayed his hands. "I'm relieved. Getting shown up by a younger Auror doesn't look good on anybody's record."

"I wasn't trying to show you up. I was just doing my job. This particular case was simply better suited to me than to you."

Davis nodded. "That's all I meant. I guess if it was a woman we were after, I would have been able to hold my own a bit better."

"That depends, holding your own what?" Harry asked with a straight face, which was difficult. He was enjoying seeing Davis squirm a bit. "Men are men, after all," Harry laughed. "We all seem to think with the same organ."

Davis finally chuckled at that. "Can't argue there."

"But seriously, I doubt Kingsley will hold it against you." The lift opened and they stepped out together. "The leg work you did before I took the case really helped."

Auror Davis knocked on The Minister's office door, opening it when he heard him call to come in.

"Crispin, Harry, have a seat please."

"Is everything all right sir?" Harry asked. He didn't know how he would handle it if Townsend's counsel found a loophole and got him off.

"Relax Harry. I've got good news for you. For both of you."

Harry sat back in the lush leather chair, but still found it hard to relax.

"I'll cut to the chase," Kingsley said. "I'm promoting both of you to Lead Auror."

Davis immediately stood and held out his hand. "Thank you sir. Thank you very much."

"You've earned it. I'm sorry it didn't come sooner. But the timing wasn't right before. Aurors Whelan and Roche have just tendered their resignations."

Harry stood as well, relieved, but also a bit nervous. He was much younger than the other Lead Aurors and hoped they wouldn't resent him. His eventual goal was to become Head Auror someday and this promotion was only a step below that goal.

"Thank you Kingsley. I won't let you down."

"You never have, Harry. As part of your first duties as Lead Aurors, I'll have a list of candidates for you to look through. Unfortunately, only three of them will be accepted into training. I'm leaving it up to the two of you to decide which three."

Harry and Crispin both nodded. It was a huge responsibility.

"Also, I'd like to mix things up a bit. Rather than have one of you take Whelan's team and the other take Roche's team intact, I'm going to allow each of the Lead Aurors to choose two subordinates to join you. The rest, I will fill in as I see fit. You'll report directly to Robards should you have any questions. Congratulations again, boys." Shacklebolt smiled.

The two newly appointed Lead Aurors left the Minister's office relieved to have gotten such good news. Once in the lift again, Davis turned to Harry.

"About before, I didn't mean . . ."

"It's all right Davis. I suppose I never said anything because I didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable."

"I was only uncomfortable with the thought that you were a better Auror than me," Davis confessed. He held his hand out to shake. "Congratulations."

Harry took it. "To you as well. We'll have to set up a time to interview the candidates and go over the paperwork."

"My schedule is a little tight this week, but I'll let you know."

Out of the lift, they parted ways. Harry very nearly skipped to his office.

"How did it go?' Ron was on the edge of his seat.

Grinning widely, Harry announced, "I've been promoted. I'm getting my own team as a Lead Auror."

"Brilliant," Ron grinned along with him. "What about Davis?"

"Him as well," Harry said.

"I suppose there are worse choices."

"He's not a bad sort. Until the Pureblood Murder case, he had one of the highest capture rates."

"Not as high as yours," Ron pointed out.

"I didn't do all that on my own, Ron. I've had the best partner. And now I'll have the best on my team."

"Really? Shacklebolt is going to let you pull me from Simon's team?"

Harry sat down, putting his feet up on the desk. "As of now, there isn't a Simon's team."

"Huh?"

"Simon, Davis, Bellcraft, Leeds, Urich and I all get to choose our teams. Or at least some of them. We're to pick two from the pool and Kingsley is going to assign the rest."

"Wait, what about Whelan and Roche?"

"Retiring. That's how Davis and I moved up."

"Oh." Ron paused. "You _are_ going to pick me, aren't you."

Harry picked up a parchment, crumpled it up and threw it at him.

"Of course, you bloody fool. I'm not certain whom else I should choose."

"What about Peters? He's got a lot of snitches in his pocket. and I don't mean the Quidditch kind," Ron chuckled.

"I thought of that. But he's been partnered with O'Neill for so long, I'd hate to break them up."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, but I think they'd like to get off Bellcraft's team."

"Agreed. I assume Davis will bring them along, though, since they're all from Bellcraft's team."

"It's a lot to think about mate," Ron said. "In a way, I'm a bit jealous that you've got Lead Auror. On the other hand, I don't know if I'm ready for that sort of responsibility."

"I am," Harry stated without hesitation. "Robards is getting on in age. I bet he'll retire in the next few years. Head Auror is my ultimate goal."

"If anybody can rise through the ranks so quickly, it's you, Harry."

oOo

"Harry, I'm so proud of you," Draco said through the floo.

"Thanks. But I have to give you some credit."

"Me?"

"The Pureblood Murder case is what really put my record over the edge. Without your help, I'm not sure the case would have resolved so quickly, or cleanly."

"So glad my poisoning wasn't a waste of time," Draco laughed. "Harry?" he called when the other end was silent.

"I guess I didn't find that quite as funny as you did."

"Come on, it all worked out in the end. I'm fine. There haven't been any lasting affects at all. Well, maybe one."

"What? You didn't tell me about any affects. What is it?" Harry voice almost sounded in a panic.

"Yeah, it's strange, but whenever I think of you, my cock just seems to expand to gigantic proportions. There's nothing I can do about it, except–

"Shut it," Harry chuckled. "Gigantic proportions. I thought you were serious."

"Well, it did start happening right after I was poisoned. It could be true. Or maybe it's just you." Draco sighed. "Speaking of which, when can I see you next? We have some celebrating to do. It's not that late."

Harry looked at his clock and sighed. "I have an overnight stakeout tonight. I was planning to nap beforehand, but . . ."

"No, you should nap. I want you to be sharp on your stakeout. Do you have to . . . never mind."

"What? Do I have to what?"

"I never thought much about your being an Auror before. Like most people, I saw you as somewhat invincible. But now I worry when you put yourself in danger. And now you'll be leading teams of people into danger."

"Thank you for worrying, but you don't need to. Ron is still my partner. I literally trust him with my life. If you knew the kind of exhaustive training we had to go through, you probably wouldn't be so worried." Harry smiled to himself. "And now I have you–even more motivation to keep myself safe."

"Do you promise?"

"I do."

Though Draco kept basically the same schedule every week, Harry's was all over the place. And their schedules didn't meet up again until Saturday night, which seemed to be the routine. Instead of going out Harry suggested bringing takeaway to Draco's.

The moment he stepped through Draco's floo, Harry was seized by his lover and pulled into the bedroom, where Harry promptly dropped the bag of Chinese takeaway. Being already nude himself, Draco pulled at Harry's clothing, unbuttoning, unzipping and untying reverently, as if Harry was a great gift. To him, Harry was.

"So, I see what you mean now," Harry eyed Draco's groin. "Gigantic proportions. I'd better get closer look."

Harry pushed him onto his back, nuzzling the light blond hair surrounding Draco's cock.

"Mm. I do love that smell."

Lifting his head, Draco protested. "I swear, there's no dried spunk tonight. I haven't touched myself all week."

"Then it must be just your natural scent. It drives me wild."

Draco arched his back as Harry licked up, then back down his erection. Harry palmed himself, trying to keep from stroking before he decided exactly what he wanted to do with his lover. In the meantime, he took Draco into his mouth, savoring the musk and saltiness on his tongue.

"Mm, Harry, that's good."

Harry hummed in response.

"But I didn't want you to come over so I could lie here while you service me."

Popping off, Harry raised an eyebrow. "I think of it more as lavishing attention on you."

Draco grinned. "I'd like to lavish attention on you as well."

"Hm, I think that can be arranged."

Harry pivoted around on all fours and straddled Draco's head. He looked between them at Draco, who was upside down from Harry's view.

"Will that do?"

"Nicely," Draco breathed, craning his neck a bit to reach Harry's hanging cock.

They sucked and licked and stroked one another, sometimes playing a little game of follow the leader. Draco had the fortune of easier access to Harry's arse, of which he took full advantage. By the time his third finger slipped in, Harry was ready to pop.

"Oh, fuck, I can't hold it."

Draco didn't relent. He pushed his fingers in and out faster and Harry was forced to temporarily stop his ministrations.

"I'm gonna cum. Oh, now."

Draco held on, swallowing several times as Harry unloaded. He hummed, making Harry jerk away at the overstimulation.

"That's one way to avoid the dried spunk. I'm hoping to get every drop," Harry said as he moved out of reach so he could concentrate on Draco.

Returning the favor, he lightly fingered Draco's arse. As the blond was largely unaccustomed to being a bottom, Harry avoided the three finger approach. Instead, he used his other hand to fondle the rosy bollocks that were beginning to draw up. He moaned in anticipation of his lover's orgasm.

Not bothering to warn Harry, who'd already indicated his intention to swallow, Draco whimpered then inhaled sharply. His hands gripped Harry's hair and his toes curled while he came hard in short bursts.

When it was over, Draco let out a long satisfied sigh.

Harry collapsed on the bed as well.

"Well, that was a lovely start to our evening."

"Quite. And now I'm famished. What did you bring to eat?"

"You're still hungry after that starter?"

"Semen hardly counts as a starter," Draco laughed.

Grinning widely, Harry sat up. "Did I ever tell you that your laugh is one of the things that attracted me the most to you? At first, at any rate."

"Really?"

"When we would talk on my portable and you'd laugh that husky, naughty laugh of yours, it made me half hard. I was glad you couldn't see me."

"Oh, I wish I'd known that. I would have laughed more." Draco got up to retrieve the forgotten, and now lukewarm, food.

They spread the small white boxes on the bed, eating the Chinese takeaway right out of the containers. Harry used chopsticks, which he learned how to use from Hermione, while Draco opted for a fork.

"So will I see even less of you now that you're a Lead Auror?" Draco asked.

"I may have to put in extra time here and there," Harry said. "But it would be desk time, not field work. Instead of being assigned the duties, I'll be doing the assigning."

"You won't have to go on any more stakeouts?"

"Yeah, I'll still have stakeouts and canvassing witnesses. And visiting crime scenes. It's not purely a managerial position."

"Oh," Draco sounded a bit disappointed.

"I promise I'll be safe." Harry couldn't stop the small smile creeping across his face.

"Do you think I'm being silly?" Draco asked.

"No, that's not why I'm smiling," Harry admitted. "Hermione and Molly are really the only people I've had to promise to keep myself safe. I rather like having you worry about me."

Fiddling with his fingers, Draco confessed, "There aren't many people I've had occasion to worry about."

Harry chuckled. "I thought I was the one who was supposed to get flustered." He reached for Draco's hand. "I can't believe how much my life has changed in the past two months. To think that a murder case could lead to me being here with you, like this." He gestured at their nudity with his hand.

"And you're in line to become Head Auror someday." Draco drew a figure eight pattern on Harry's leg with his finger. "And I'll still be in Knockturn Alley selling potions, like an ordinary wizard."

"Extraordinarily ordinary," Harry grinned. "And Head Auror isn't exactly a glamorous job. I mainly want it in order to change some of the policies and procedures in place now. Of course, the extra money would be nice too. Then I could travel with you from time to time. Perhaps on a very special trip someday."

Draco's brow furrowed, though he was still smiling. Before he could question Harry's cryptic suggestion, Harry jumped off the bed and ran out of the bedroom.

"Harry? What the devil are you doing?"

Harry came back, breathless from running with a small box in his hand.

"What's that?"

"It's for you." Harry held it out.

At first Draco reached for it, then retracted his hand.

"Please take it, Draco. I know you didn't tell me tomorrow is your birthday because you probably didn't want me to get you a gift. But I think you'll like it."

"How did you find out?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I am an Auror, you know."

Draco chuckled, then accepted the gift. He unwrapped it so carefully and slowly, that Harry was losing patience and nearly ripped the paper off it himself. When Draco finally had the box opened, he peeked inside.

"Is this what I think it is?"

"Yes," Harry grinned. "Your very own portable floo."

"For those times you can't travel with me?"

Harry blushed. "Well, that too, I suppose. But I was thinking that you would feel better being able to get in touch with me when I'm out in the field, wherever you are."

"Very thoughtful. Thank you." Draco leaned forward giving Harry a passionate kiss to show his appreciation. "I love it. I love you."

Sighing, Harry said, "I'll never get tired of hearing that. I love you too."


	11. Chapter 11

*** Thanks to hidden shades, yukino76, littlesprout, sjrodgers23, and cassy1994 for reading and reviewing.**

 **This is the final chapter. I wasn't planning to do an epilogue, but you never know what can happen down the road.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

* * *

oOo

"Aren't you going to answer that, Mate?" Ron asked. "He might need you to pick up milk." He smirked.

"Ron, he doesn't call any more often than Hermione."

"Yeah, but I got Hermione a portable in case she goes into labour while I'm out in the field."

"She's not due for another month," Harry snickered. His portable dinged again. "Hello, luv."

" _Sorry to bother you again, Harry,_ " Draco said. " _I'm trying to plan time with my parents over the holidays and I need a schedule from you_."

"I don't know if I can be more specific than I already have been. It depends on whether or not we get a lead on the latest string of robberies."

" _All right,_ " Draco sighed. " _But Christmas Day, right Harry? You promised you'd spend Christmas Day with me._ "

"Unless there's some sort of emergency, yes. Robards has tentatively given us all Christmas Day."

" _Okay. I promise I won't bother you again._ "

"It's fine, Draco. Ron and I are still waiting for the snitch. As soon as we interview him, I'll be home. Love you."

" _Love you too._ "

No longer able to hold it in, Ron burst out laughing.

"Ha, ha," Harry said sarcastically.

"Sorry, mate. But the two of you are worse than an old married couple."

"We are _not_. He just gets nervous when I'm out on a call. Although, the closer it gets to the holidays, the more he wants to know where I am every minute."

"It's a bit stifling, innit?"

"No. Not at all," Harry told him. "It's nice to have someone who cares. I only wish he wasn't so anxious all the time. He didn't used to be."

"You know it's only going to get worse until you put your foot down," Ron suggested. "Tell him he can't keep calling every five minutes. You have a job to do."

Ron's own portable sounded. He gave Harry a sheepish shrug, then answered it.

"Hello?"

" _Ron, are you still not back to the office?_ " Hermione asked.

"No, luv. The snitch hasn't shown up yet. We're going to give him ten more minutes."

" _Good. Can you pick up milk on the way home, then?_ "

"Of course. Anything else?"

" _Hmm, maybe some ice cream. And orange juice. I have a taste for orange juice._ "

"Sure thing. I should be home within the hour, all right?"

" _Be careful,_ " she said before disconnecting.

"Oh, go ahead, Harry. You know you want to laugh," grumbled Ron.

"You really ought to put your foot down," Harry mocked.

Before Ron could retort, the snitch they had been waiting for showed up.

Having gotten the information they were after, Ron got home within the hour as promised and Harry found his way to Draco's flat.

"Draco, I was only meeting an informant. You didn't need to be so worried."

Draco shrugged as he dished out the dinner he had made for them. "I wasn't."

"You called three times."

"Twice."

"Just because I didn't pick up that second call doesn't mean you didn't make it. Why have you been so anxious lately?"

"I, I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

"Lots of stuff has happened to me since I became an Auror, Draco. I've been cursed and hexed and sent to St. Mungo's more times than I can count, spent hours in a swamp on stakeout, been spat on, pissed on, practically mauled by a dragon, nearly drowned, vilified in the press, and even delivered a baby–all as part of my duties as an Auror. And I'm certain there's more where that came from."

Draco stood with his mouth open, holding two plates of shepherd's pie. "Was that supposed to make me feel better?"

Harry chuckled. "I'm sorry. My point is, in the four years I've been a full fledged Auror, nothing _that_ bad has happened to me. It isn't same today as it was when the Death Eaters were running rampant. I'm careful. And in case you've forgotten, you are the one who nearly died this year."

"That was . . . a chance happening. The odds of something like that ever happening again are practically nil." Draco placed the plates on the table and took a seat. Harry followed suit.

"Probably," Harry agreed. "But many of the older Aurors have been on the job for years. And there hasn't been an Auror death since the war ended."

"I know, but–

"But nothing. You're going to worry yourself to death," Harry said. "And then where would _I_ be? I don't know what I'd do without you either. But I trust that you're doing all you can to keep yourself safe when I'm not around. Can't you do the same for me?"

Draco pouted a bit.

"Ron's been taking the piss over how much you've been calling me."

"I'm sorry," Draco said quietly.

Harry reached his hand across the table. "I love that you care so much. Let's just try to enjoy each other's company while we're together. This shepherd's pie smells heavenly."

Giving a small smile, Draco said, "Thank you. I promise I'll try not to call so often. I just wish . . ." He looked at Harry and shook his head. "I'll trust you."

They ate the rest of their meal without either of them mentioning Draco's floo calls, or dangerous Auror situations. Though Draco thought it boring, Harry wanted to hear how things at the shop were going and his latest trip to Switzerland for ingredients. Harry talked mainly about Ron and Hermione's expanding family. He seemed nearly as excited as they were.

"I do hope they have more than one child," Harry said. "I think it would have been nice to have a sibling or two."

Draco's brow furrowed. "Didn't you grow up with a cousin about your age?"

"Dudley?" Harry laughed out loud. "The nicest Dudley ever was to me was when he told me he didn't think I was a waste of space."

"Oh."

"We've sort of reconciled. Mainly just Christmas cards and the occasional visit. But it's still very awkward." Harry gasped a little. "That reminds me, I'd better get my cards out."

"Me too," Draco said pensively. "Being an only child wasn't much fun, even though I was spoiled with loads of toys and clothes, and whatever else I wanted."

"You want children?" Harry sounded surprised.

"Yes. Don't most people?"

"Uh, I suppose. But I thought . . ."

"What?"

"For some reason I thought you didn't like children much."

Draco smiled. "While it's true I had very little tolerance for the younger years at school, I always thought I'd have a family. I always wanted to have a chance to be a better father than my own."

Harry chuckled. "I always wanted the chance to try and live up to mine. He only got to be a father for a year. But he was a good man."

"He couldn't possibly have been a better man than you."

Looking across the table, Harry saw the genuine admiration and love in Draco's eyes. He feared his heart might burst right then and there. He wanted to do everything he could to deserve that love. He vowed silently to himself that he would work even harder to become Head Auror so he and Draco could have the life together they wanted.

oOo

" _I know I promised not to floo call so much, but I want to be sure you're going to be on time. Mother's planned for supper at precisely half-six._ "

"I'll be there. I promise," Harry said.

" _Are you sure you're all right? You sound . . . nervous_."

"No, I'm just, um, wrapping some things up here," Harry told him.

" _I still can't believe you had to go into the office on Christmas Day._ "

"It's fine, Draco. I'll be on time. I've got to go, luv. See you at the Manor."

Harry felt a wee bit guilty that the things he was wrapping up were Christmas presents for Draco and his parents. He felt a bit more guilty that Draco thought he was in the office. But it was the only way he could get out of going to the Manor earlier so he could prepare for Draco's surprise.

Supper was a lovely goose with apple sage stuffing and cider gravy, complete with roasted potatoes and creamed brussels sprouts. Conversation was only slightly stilted at times, as Harry and the Malfoys had spent little time together during the eight months Harry and Draco had been dating. Luckily, Draco directed most of the discussion.

Dessert was a traditional Christmas plum pudding, a treat of which Harry was not a fan. Luckily, his excuse that he was far too full of the wonderful goose was accepted for not eating the pud. Besides, he was far too anxious to get to presents.

The four retired to the drawing room, where a roaring fire and a trolly of tea was waiting for them. Draco sat in a chair between Harry and his mother. Eager to get on with it, Harry reached into the satchel he had brought and walked over to the Malfoys with a box in bright Christmas wrapping a gold bow and a bottle of extremely old fire whiskey.

"Happy Christmas, Mrs. Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy." He gave her the box and him the bottle. Lucius nodded in acknowledgement.

"Why Harry, you didn't need to buy me a present," Narcissa said.

"I didn't. Er, I mean, I would have, but I thought you might like these more than something I could buy," Harry tried to explain, but simply felt foolish. Then he wondered if the Malfoys only put value on things that cost a lot of galleons.

"I'm afraid we weren't certain what to give you," she said, handing him an envelope.

Afraid it might be money, Harry reluctantly accepted it and sat back down. He waited for her to begin unwrapping her gift before he opened his. Draco peered over his shoulder trying to see what it was as Harry tore open the parchment.

"Quidditch Cup tickets?" Draco questioned. "You never bought me Quidditch Cup tickets."

"You can buy them yourself Draco," Narcissa smirked. "Besides, something tells me that Harry will ask you to accompany him."

When she looked inside her box, she gasped.

"Are these what I think they are?" She looked to Harry with her mouth hung open in a most undignified manor. "I thought these were lost forever."

"What? What is it Mother?"

Lucius also craned his neck to see what Harry had given her.

She reached in and pulled out a silver goblet embossed with the Black family crest.

"I, I don't know what to say."

"I suppose it's not really much of a gift, seeing as those are rightfully yours in the first place," Harry blushed. "Mundungus Fletcher had stolen them, and many other items out of my Godfather's house. But much of it was recovered and returned to me, since I became the house's owner."

"Not much of a gift?" Narcissa scoffed. "These are goblin made, exclusively for the House of Black. Thank you Harry. Thank you so much."

Harry nodded and smiled, relieved that she liked his gift. "And thank you so much for the tickets. Draco and I may root for different teams, but the Cup is always exciting."

Draco cleared his throat as he began to lay out several beautifully wrapped packages on the small table between him and Harry.

"Oh. That's right," Narcissa stood. She turned to her husband. "Draco has asked for privacy while he exchanges gifts with Harry." She called out for one of her house elves. "We'll take tea in the solarium."

Lucius picked up the bottle Harry had given him. "I think I'll have this instead."

"Enjoy." She said to the boys as she left the drawing room.

"Why did you ask your mother to leave?"

"This is our first Christmas, Harry. I want it to be special."

"And it can't be special if your parents are watching us open presents?"

"You know what I mean. This should be a moment just for us. Besides, I may have gotten you something that might be embarrassing to open in front of them."

"Ooh, can I have that one first then?"

Draco enthusiastically picked up one of the gifts, handing it to Harry. Harry looked inside the satchel, deciding which gift to give Draco first. He hadn't gotten anything naughty, so he thought he'd start with an heirloom gift, like he gave Narcissa.

After all of the gifts on the table were opened, and thanks and kisses exchanged, Draco suddenly felt nervous. He watched Harry as he peered into the satchel, biting his lip.

"I have one more for you, Draco," he said.

"Me too," Draco replied.

"You go first."

"No, no, you go first."

They stared at one another, each waiting for the other to give in. Finally, in exasperation, they sighed simultaneously and knelt down on the floor.

"What are you doing?" asked Draco.

"What are _you_ doing?"

"Oh, my. I thought perhaps you'd be finished by now." Narcissa stood in the doorway, catching sight of both Harry and Draco facing each other, down on one knee and holding something behind their backs. "I suggest on the count of three," she said, then walked out.

Again, they stared at one another, unmoving, until Draco said, "Count of three?"

Harry nodded. And they counted together. "One, two, three."

"Draco, will you–

"–marry me, Harry?"

A moment of shock, then they burst out laughing, still holding out their respective little boxes.

"Yes," Draco answered first, simultaneously snatching Harry's box and thrusting his into Harry's hand.

"Me too," grinned Harry.

"Can I look?" asked Draco.

"Please. But you'll tell me if it's not what you want. We can always exchange it."

Draco opened the small hinged box to find the perfect ring. "How did you know?"

"I saw you admiring it when I went with you to shop for your mother's gift," admitted Harry.

"I had originally thought of giving it to you. But then I decided it wasn't quite your style."

"It suits you perfectly. It's elegant, with delicate etching along the edge and the emerald–well, it was almost too perfect."

"You haven't looked at yours." Draco bit his lip. He stretched his arm out to retrieve the box. "I should let you choose your own."

Harry held the box out of Draco's reach. "No, I want this one. You picked it out for me."

"Mm, not exactly. It's actually a ring that's been passed down on my father's side. My grandfather Abraxis was the last one to wear it. I couldn't give you the other ring because it's for a girl."

"I would have been happy to wear whatever ring you chose for me," Harry said.

"No, you wouldn't. That one was hideously encrusted with diamonds of every color. It literally looks like a unicorn gobbed on it."

Harry laughed, then opened the box in his hand. He stared at the gold band that was shaped like a snake coiled around twice. Its eyes were two small garnets.

"You hate it," Draco said, rather than asked. "Is it because it's a snake? I should have known. That name you used wasn't because you like snakes in particular."

"No, you're wrong. This is beautiful." He looked at his new finance. "I don't hate snakes. I actually think they're beautiful creatures. And I can still remember a little parseltongue."

"You speak parseltongue?"

"Not anymore. I used to, when part of Voldemort was still inside me. Now I only remember bits and pieces." Harry paused. "But, are you certain you want to give away a family heirloom like this?"

"I'm not giving it away. I'm giving it to _you_. You're going to be a Malfoy. It's rightfully yours."

Harry's brow furrowed. He hadn't thought of marriage in those terms. Draco tugged at Harry's chin to get his attention.

"And I'm going to be a Potter. Our children will be part of both families."

Tears sprang suddenly to Harry's eyes. He was going to have a family. He wasn't going to be alone anymore.

"Oh, don't cry." Draco hugged onto him. "This is supposed to be a happy time."

"I am happy. Happier than you could possibly imagine."

"I think I can."

Pulling away to wipe his eyes, Harry gasped. "But what are your parents going to say?"

"Congratulations," Narcissa said from the doorway.

"Mother were you listening?"

"I couldn't help it darling. I wanted to share in your happy occasion." She walked in, followed by Lucius, who didn't look quite as pleased as his wife. But he offered his congratulations just the same.

Draco excitedly held out the box with his ring to show his parents. They nodded in approval. Afterward, Lucius retrieved a bottle of champagne from the liquor cabinet to celebrate his son's engagement. They toasted several times, and even Harry was feeling relaxed.

"I dare say that this has been the best Christmas yet," announced Narcissa. She clasped hands with her husband. "Thank you for not making a fuss," she whispered to him. "I know this is not quite what you had planned for him."

Lucius smiled. "He's happy. Nearly as happy as I was the day you agreed to marry me. How could I deny him that?"

oOo

After a hasty exit, Harry and Draco found themselves at Harry's flat. The moment they stripped out of their clothes, Draco had himself buried deep inside Harry. He had to make a conscious effort to slow down so as not to spoil their lovemaking with a very speedy ending.

Draped over Harry, on his hands and knees, Draco slowly eased in and out, while he kissed and sucked at Harry's neck and shoulder. Harry moaned and tried to buck against him harder. But Draco kept the painfully glacial pace. We wanted it to last forever.

However, even taking his time, his body eventually needed release. He was getting close.

"Turn over. I want to see you." Draco disengaged only long enough for Harry to lie on his back. Once he was back inside, he couldn't help himself.

"Oh, Harry, you're so beautiful." Draco thrust harder and faster as Harry's hips rose to meet his. He wrapped his hand around Harry's cock and pulled.

Harry cried out immediately, spewing cum in all directions. Draco came then, too, whispering Harry's name. He collapsed on top of Harry.

"Fuck. I'm completely knackered."

Harry chuckled. "I'm not surprised. That's probably the longest we've ever lasted."

"I wish it could have lasted all night. I just want to have my cock buried inside you twenty-four/seven."

"That would make for an interesting work day," Harry laughed at the image conjured in his head. He imagined sitting at his desk on top of Draco's lap, wanking while people were busy around him. "Perhaps we ought to keep it private."

Draco rolled over onto his back and sighed. "That was the best orgasm of my life."

"You've said that before," Harry reminded him.

"Yes. And at the time, it was true. But this is the first orgasm I've had while making love with my fiancé."

Harry grinned. "Imagine how amazing it will be with your husband."


End file.
